Meticulous
by AprilStormsWinter
Summary: "You, Ms. Chase, are grossly insufferable." "Well, you would know all about being gross, wouldn't you, Perseus Jackson?" "Try me." OR, the one where they fake a marriage in order to get what they want. After all, it's only a contract, right? Percabeth!Mortal AU. Rated High T/M. Complete Summary Inside. OOC.
1. Chapter One: Featuring Merlot

_**the biggest of thank you's to everyshadedsilver who beta read this for me. **_

* * *

Summary

_Annabeth Chase __is just a 25 year old waitress trying desperately to pay her next bill and take proper care of her 13 year old younger brother. Life for her is simple, and as much as she tries to convince her otherwise, she doesn't like it that way._

_Perseus "Percy" Jackson is a prominent 27 year old businessman who will do anything to inherit what was promised to him. But getting that inheritance has proved to be a lot more difficult than he'd anticipated._

_With the deadline looming over his horizon, how far is he willing to go to get what's his? And how far is Annabeth willing to go to provide her brother the childhood he deserves?_

_An engagement contract seems a simple enough answer to their problems, but is it?_

* * *

_**Annabeth**_

Usually it's her alarm clock that wakes her. But it didn't go off today, and so the soothing darkness of early morning gently coaxes her out of her sleep instead.

Annabeth yawns a bit as she sits up, attempting to rub the remaining fatigue from her eyes. The bright red numbers on the alarm clock off to her left blink on and off repeatedly, reading 6:05 am.

From what she can see in the darkness, the bit of sky that's visible through her window is still a heavy shade of onyx. But based on both the sight of the few silver tipped clouds that drift along and her own personal experiences, she knows that the sun will rise at any moment, bathing the arches in rows of fuschias and the tainted shades of blood oranges.

She tries to slip out of bed with as much silence as she can muster, knowing that Harley needed his rest. Her bare feet press lightly into the floorboards.

But the higher powers do not oblige to her inner wish, and the wooden floors creak louder than ever before. Their high pitched groans echo throughout the apartment, traveling through the darkness.

She lets loose a grimace as she winces, continuing to ease out of bed. The mattress sags as she slowly shifts her weight into the balls of her feet, each creak and groan eliciting another flinch. The moment she's finally out of bed doesn't come soon enough.

Annabeth quickly shuffles to the bathroom and starts up a shower, breathing in deeply as the sound of water kissing tile fills her ears. As she waits for the water to warm, she strips then sits down on the toilet seat cover. An undefined amount of time passes before a soft knock comes from the other side of the door.

"Anna? What are you doing up so early?" Harley's words are laced with fatigue, and she can hear the distinct sound of his yawning as well.

_Shit_.

"Do you need to brush your teeth?" She answers him, dodging his question. Annabeth rapidly wraps the towel around her naked form.

He doesn't respond. Instead, the door creaks open and he pops his head in. His messy curls are the same shade of ink, flopping over his deep brown eyes that search her up and down in confusion. His hair is flat against the side of his head.

Annabeth momentarily forgets about the rushing water behind her and beckons her younger brother further into the bathroom. "You didn't answer my question," she reminds him hypocritically.

He stands fully and slowly shuffles forward, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he pushes the door to its full openness. "A, why are you awake this early? It's only 6:15. I don't need to be at the center for another hour or whatever."

By now a heated fog has crept over the bathroom, and so she motions for him to turn around. Annabeth hangs the towel on a nearby rack, and soon as she steps into the shower a low shudder of relief passes through her lips.

All praise the existence of hot water.

"The diner is opening earlier today. Silena wants me to go open up today instead of her younger sister Piper. I have no idea why, though."

"Oh," Is his groggy response.

The room is silent for a ten second count that she spends relishing the feel of each heated water droplet that rolls over her skin.

Finally, she pokes her head out of the shower and waves her hands, gesturing him to get out. "Go back to sleep, Harley. I'll wake you up after I get dressed and take you down to the community center before school so you don't have to wait here all alone until 8."

He nods sleepily and leaves the bathroom. "M'kay."

She smiles a little at that and turns back to the shower.

. .

30 minutes later, Annabeth's dressed in her diner uniform. She throws her black aviator's jacket over the ensemble to keep warm and go to Harley's room to wake him up.

Surprisingly, however, his bedroom light is already illuminated. _Did he ever go back to sleep?_ She knocks on his door softly, wanting the answers as soon as possible.

"Harley? You awake?" Annabeth presses her ear against the wood.

"Come in!" His voice is muffled.

She eases open the door and leans against the doorway, a chuckle immediately bubbling out of her chest. Harley is seated crisscross applesauce on the surface of his wrinkled duvet. A thick book is currently taking residence in his lap, and she gazes at him.

She gazes at his furrowed eyebrows that crinkle every other second. She gazes at his brownish eyes that flicker over the pages at what seems to be the speed of light. She gazes at his fingers that tap his knees hurriedly, as if he cannot wait to turn the page and delve further into the adventure that he has immersed himself into.

He's already dressed as well, sporting a comfortable pair of jeans, not-so-authentic black Timberlands (because there was no way she would ever attempt to conjure up the money for a label when that money could go towards her bills), a black hoodie, and an army print denim jacket.

"Hey there, Harley. I see you're already ready." Annabeth raises a devilish eyebrow.

Her younger brother jolts abruptly, his head snapping upwards as his soft eyes meet hers. For a brief moment, his facial features reflect nothing but panic before they relax. Harley's cheeks would probably flush crimson if his skin was light enough. He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, I only meant to read one chapter... but Collins sort of sucked me in." He then snickers under his breath at his wording, as if congratulating himself for being so clever.

She snorts, pushing herself off the doorway and stepping further into the small room. "You freak. Isn't that your fifth time reading Catching Fire?"

Harley sticks his tongue out at her in response before flashing the cover. "Actually, you Philistine, this is book three- Mockingkay. And it's my fourth time."

Her hands raise in mock surrender as she rolls her eyes. "Whatever. You understood what I meant."

"No, I didn't."

"Then how did you correct me? You obviously understood me enough to point out my mistake."

He remains silent at that before giving way to an exasperated eye roll. Harley then hops off his bed, making sure that he marks his place in his book.

"Exactly." She jeers as he brushes past her with a brisk flair, dodging into the bathroom two steps down the hall.

"Whatever, Anna. Lemme go brush my teeth and grab an apple."

"Sounds like a plan, kid."

She flicks off his bedroom lights before moving towards the kitchen. Annabeth collapses dramatically into a folding chair and re-ties her shoelaces, tugging at the ends with a force that will ensure their survival until she clocks out.

(Because she simply doesn't have the time throughout the day to stop and tie her shoes when there are orders that demand to be taken and food that opts to be served at every moment.)

The sound of Harley's footsteps grow louder as he nears the kitchen. The moment he reappears from the bathroom, she tosses him a Red Delicious.

He stares down at it in disgust before peering at his older sister through thick lashes. His eyes crackle with intelligence. Dramatically and loudly, her younger brother clears his throat. "Excuse me? But I believe you're forgetting something." He blinks rapidly.

_Now it's her turn to blush._ Annabeth quickly apologizes. "Sorry, Harley. I grabbed the first apple I saw- it just slipped my mind."

He nods in good humor as he throws the apple back at her with a flourish. Then the 13 year old adds a shrug for good measure. "Not my fault I'm allergic to the monstrosity that is the Red Delicious."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I know it isn't your fault. Just accept my apology with this Granny Smith."

Harley walks over to the sink to rinse the green fruit that she had just handed him. "Thanks, Anna."

"No problem, Bud. Now, let's bounce. I'm supposed to be at the diner in 30."

"Let's roll, then." He agrees, slipping his book inside his backpack. His teeth sink into the apple in his grasp.

Annabeth drops her keys into the polka dotted messenger bag that hangs on a thumb tack on the wall before slinging said bag over her shoulder.

"Alright, Harley, let's go." She looks over at him.

He pulls the door open and steps into the hallway. I locks the door behind them.

. .

Harley trails silently behind as they approach the front desk of the community center. The permanent scent of watercolor paint and fresh paper does much to bring a sense of tranquility to Annabeth's chest. A young woman is seated behind the desk, with hair that screams the shade of caramel and light brown eyes that look up at us with a smile befitting a goddess.

"Hey there, Harley," she greets. Her ponytail is high and tight enough to make Ariana Grande think twice.

Annabeth can practically hear his well mannered wave behind her as he responds. "Hey, Angel." He then sidles up beside her.

"You know where to go. I'll see you in 10." She gestures to a door a few ways down the hallway.

Harley nods and gives his older sister a hug, snaking his arm around her waist and leaning his head against her shoulder. "I'll see you later, Anna."

She pats the top of his head with a smile, making sure that she doesn't ruffle any of his meticulously styled hairs. "See you later, kid."

He pulls away and lifts a hand in salute. Soon after, Harley disappears into the room that Angel had previously pointed him to.

Annabeth leans against the desk, turning towards the blonde in front of her. "Is there a bus that takes the kids to any local middle schools?"

Angel nods, reaching under the desk and taking out a folder. "Yes, there is. Though it only goes to Frederick Douglass and James Monroe Middle School."

She breathes a sigh of relief internally before sending her a small smile. "Okay, good. Harley goes to JMMS."

Angel nods again. "Okay. Would you like the bus to drop him off back here after school too?"

"Yeah, I'd like that. Please tell him that though, I don't want him to wait outside by himself just in case I don't show." Her cheeks warm slightly at that admission.

If Angel reacts to it, she does an amazing job of hiding her judgment. Instead, she smiles again and places the folder back in the drawer. When she speaks, a slight Southern drawl enters her words. "Alright. Have a nice day, and thanks for stopping by."

Annabeth waves to her slightly and smiles back. "No problem. I guess I'll see you later."

Angel bows her head a little in response to show her agreement and she's on her way.

Annabeth glances at the analog clock by the entrance and lets loose a curse under her breath upon reading the time that it shows. It's 7:10, leaving her 20 minutes to get to the diner.

Meaning she would have to speed walk, or wait around for the bus.

After quickly running through the bus schedule in her head, she realizes that the wait would be too long. With a heavy sigh of resignation and fatigue, she pushes through the entrance doors and prepares herself for the rapid walk that is ahead of her.

. .

Miraculously, she arrives at the diner by 7:25. _The odds are definitely working in her favor today. For now._ Her fingers are already reaching into her bag and fishing around for her set of keys, wanting to enter the building as soon as possible with the little time she has to spare.

Soon enough, they brush against a cold, metallic edge that lowers her anxiety a degree.

Annabeth tries inserting it into the lock several times before realizing with a flair of embarrassment that they're the wrong keys.

_(Big yikes.)_

A bus roars last, and instinctively she glances at the time that is displayed across its side.

7:27.

_Shit_.

Annabeth pulls out what she hopes is the correct keys and moves to unlock the door. Thankfully, the door opens gently after she tries a push and she slips inside.

A light is already on, coming from the bathrooms adjacent to the kitchen. The rest of the diner is dark. Annabeth tries to shake the numerous negative thoughts that take a rise within her as she gets to work.

She flicks on the light, revealing the familiar slate tiles and pale red walls. The soft light gray booths and black marble tables outlined in shiny aluminum catches her attention.

_Or well, one of them does._

On one of the tables sits a brown leather purse. Hermès.

_It's Piper's purse._

Annabeth turns towards the bathrooms, where the light is still on. _What the hell is Piper doing here? _"Pipes? Are you there?" She takes a cautionary step forward.

Her only response is the air conditioner blowing steadily through the vents.

Annabeth starts for the bathrooms, not caring that she's supposed to be setting out table mats and ketchup bottles and salt n' pepper shakers. She passes through the swinging door that separates the dining area and the staff section.

The bathrooms are adjacent through the kitchen. As stealthily as she can, Annabeth tiptoes through the kitchen. The sound of rushing water, although muffled, reaches her ears. She can tell that it's coming from the bathrooms.

She enters the women's bathroom and closes the door behind her. Then she turns, prepared to call out for her coworker again before her blood runs cold and her words die in her throat.

Piper was definitely there. But she's curled into a ball on the ground next to a bottle of... _Merlot_?

One of the faucets is still running, and an opened bottle of Advil is sitting next to it. Annabeth rushes to turn off the water and kneels beside Piper's crumpled body.

Relief rushes through her veins as the sound of Piper's snores fill the air. _So she's just asleep. Not unconscious or drugged.  
_  
But the relief is cut off short when Annabeth recognizes the black skinny jeans and pale gray blouse. She's wearing her _waitress uniform._

Meaning she was here all _damn_ night.

Annabeth tries to keep the annoyance from her voice as she shakes her friend's shoulders. "Pie! Piper! Wake up, damn it!"

Piper's snoring stops for a moment before she pauses and snorts. She then rolls over to reveal a huge knot on her forehead.

Annabeth's heart leaps into her throat and her reflexes take over. Before she can stop herself, she's slapping her coworker in the face.

Piper sits up with a scream, wide awake. She pushes Annabeth away first before attacking. "_What the fuck?"_

Annabeth tackles her body to the ground and pins her arms to her side after a few moments of scuffling. She clamps her hand over Piper's mouth.

Her coworker's surgically-altered-ever-changing eyes widen and Annabeth feels her open her mouth to bite her hand.

"Fuck!" She cries out, tearing her hand away from Piper's lips.

The bit sits up, her dark hair veiling her face from eyesight. Her chest heaves..

"What the hell was that for, Piper? I was trying to help, you idiot!" Annabeth hisses, cradling her hand in her lap. The center of her palm is already turning red, and the bite marks are already becoming visible.

Piper sighs and burps (disgusting, much?) being her fingers through her hair. "I'm sorry, Annabeth! I really am, I just panicked." She massages her temples.

Annabeth's anger was already receding, but it fully dies down as she stares at her friend a bit longer. "What are you doing here anyways? _You're_ supposed to be opening today, not me."

Piper groans and hugs her knees to her chest. "Last night, after Silena left me to close up, Drew and Octavia came over and invited a few of their friends. I remember having a mini alcohol party in the back and getting drunk as hell on... wine and vodka...? Maybe beer?" She pauses to cough before continuing. "Whatever. Anyways, I think I passed out after making out with one of Drew's friends in here. Then around 3 AM I popped an aspirin from the kitchen cabinet and fell back asleep. And here I am, with the biggest fucking hangover in the world and a huge migraine. How was your morning?"

Annabeth knows Drew; she's Piper's fraternal twin sister. The only thing she really knows of her is that she's a major party lover and teaches dance classes at the community center.

She's about to answer Piper, but the soft and clear voice of Silena McBeauregard interrupts her.

"Annabeth? Are you here?" She calls out.

Piper's head shoots up at the sound of her older sister's voice. She gazes at Annabeth with fearful eyes and quickly shakes her head no.

Annabeth mouths an apology that really isn't apologetic and stands up. Silena was bound to find out anyways. "I'm in the bathroom!" She answers.

The clacking of her combat boots sounding against the tile floors fills Annabeth's ears as Silena makes her way towards the women's bathroom.

Then she appears in the doorway, her dark hair pulled away from her flawless face in a high ponytail. Her clear blue eyes widen when they fall on Piper, who's now rocking on her butt and staring at the wall.

"Pipes? What are you doing here?" Silena's head cocks to the side.

Piper ignores her.

Silena turns to Annabeth. "Why is she here?"

She quickly glances at Piper and looks back at her older sister before shrugging. "I don't know. When I came in she was already here. I found her like this when I came in here." She gestures to Piper's position. "I was just trying to figure out what was wrong with her when you showed up." Her heart skips a beat at her lie.

Through her peripheral vision she catches Piper sending a grateful glance.

Annabeth gave a nod that she hopes is barely noticeable while still keeping her gaze on Silena, who's pulling on her belt loops thoughtfully as she bites her lips.

Eventually her shoulders sag and she leans against the doorway while crossing her arms. "Okay, Annabeth. Whatever you say. But, you'll have to take over Piper's job today, because there is no way she's serving looking like that." Her nostrils flare with reproach as she sends a pointed glare towards her sister.

Annabeth nods. "Alright, I'm fine with that, just as long as I get what she would've gotten had she worked today."

"Of course." Silena stoops and helps her younger sister up. She coils Piper's arm around her shoulders and sets her own hand around her waist. When she catches sight of the knot on her forehead, she pales visibly. Then her eyes fell on the bottle of Aleve on the counter and she tutts while shaking her head. "Let's go, Piper. I'll let you sleep off... whatever the hell is going on with you in the lounge."

Piper nods and yawns a tad dramatically. "Thanks, Silly."

Silena snorts before rolling her eyes."Yeah, yeah, whatever. You just better hope I never find out what happened here."

Piper laughs dryly. "Oh, I'm hoping. Don't worry about that."

"What would you do without me?"

"Continue to sleep."

"Shut up, Piper."

"Gladly."

Then they stumble out of the bathroom and limp towards the lounge.

Silena calls out to Annabeth. "Anna, can you set up and flip the open-closed sign for me? Thanks! I'll be right with you in 5."

She nods. "Sure thing, Sil. Hope you feel better, Pipes!"

The younger sister of her boss just groans in response, "So do I!"

Annabeth laughs and goes to the front to set up.

.

.

**Author's Note-**

**Um... hi? Hehe. I really am unsure of what to say other than THANK YOU FOR READING THIS.**

**This is my first fanfic, so try not to criticize it TOO harshly. It's been beta read, so all of the horrible stuff have already been edited and all that. Hopefully you'll stick around?**

**_love, April!_**


	2. Chapter Two: Featuring Eggs Benedict

_**the biggest of thank you's to everyshadedsilver who beta read this for me. **_

* * *

Summary

_Annabeth Chase __is just a 25 year old waitress trying desperately to pay her next bill and take proper care of her 13 year old younger brother. Life for her is simple, and as much as she tries to convince her otherwise, she doesn't like it that way._

_Perseus "Percy" Jackson is a prominent 27 year old businessman who will do anything to inherit what was promised to him. But getting that inheritance has proved to be a lot more difficult than he'd anticipated._

_With the deadline looming over his horizon, how far is he willing to go to get what's his? And how far is Annabeth willing to go to provide her brother the childhood he deserves?_

_An engagement contract seems a simple enough answer to their problems, but is it?_

* * *

**_Perseus_**

_He doesn't even like coffee. What the hell is he doing here?_

"Hello, welcome to Trio's Cafe. What would you like to order?" The waitress's voice comes from somewhere to Percy's left.

He speaks into the phone. "Hold on a second." The caller on the other end of the line patiently waits as he nods at Jason to order for him.

Jason nods back to show that he understands and Percy tunes out. His attention is turned back to the task at hand, not even giving the waitress a spare glance. He's trying to land a business deal in the stead of his father. So far, the process is coming along very well, and Percy doesn't want anything to change that.

Call him superstitious, _he doesn't care._

"Alright, I'm back." He says.

"Where was I?"

"You were about to agree to the deal?"

"Haha, nice try, Jackson."

The 27 year old laughs. "It was worth a shot, yeah? Now, let's get down to business."

"Yes, of course. I agree with your ideas, and I'm sure Mr. Giovanni will approve. Although..." the caller trails off.

Percy frowns. "Although... what? What's the problem?"

"The location of the factory will undoubtedly cause some complaints."

He sighs a bit under his breath. "Alright. I'll arrange a meeting with Mr. Giovanni and my father to discuss our options."

"Perfect. I'll see you two soon, I assume?"

Percy nods. "I'm counting on it."

The caller laughs and bids his goodbyes before hanging up. Percy detaches the phone from his ear, stares at it for a few seconds, and slides it into his pocket. He turns to study the interior of the diner, finally able to fully register his surroundings since he had gotten out of the car.

It isn't much to look at, to be honest. Ashy green walls and pale grey floors clash together against the light marble tables and leather booths. It's as if the designers had no idea what aesthetic they were going for when drawing this up.

Percy turns to stare at his driver long and hard. Jason is leaning against his side of the booth, watching the other occupants of the diner. "Why did you bring me here, Jason?" His tone is flat.

The man in question turns to look at him and pauses before a slight grin breaks out on his face, his sky blue irises twinkling. "Their coffee is the best I've ever had. You'll see."

Percy has to refrain from rolling his eyes, but cannot resist his scoff. He tugs on the cuffs of his suit jacket. "Why the hell would I pay for coffee when I can get it at home free of charge? It's a bit ridiculous."

Jason leans over the table. "But you've never had TC's coffee before. Only the stuff that Lou Ellen makes from scratch at your house."

Percy shakes his head, folding his arms over his chest. "I prefer to save money, thank you."

"And I prefer spending money at Trio's, thank you." Is his driver's sassy response.

Percy can't restrain his eye roll this time. "Then you can be the one to pay, since you clearly insist. Now," he pauses to change the subject. "What exactly did you order for me, Jace?"

Jason slides the laminated menu across the pale marble. Percy quickly scares it before looking back up at his personal driver and closest friend. His question repeats as his eyebrow lifts. "What did you order for me, Jason?"

He chuckles. "Just a cup of black coffee, a Belgian waffle, and eggs Benedict."

"So I see you've decided that today will be my cheat day. All of that sounds ridiculously fattening." He pauses to slide the menu back over to his driver before hurrying on. "Minus the coffee, obviously."

Jason laughs, loud. "You got it. But you and I both know you're going to work it off today anyways, what with you going all over the place and losing your voice screaming at employees."

Percy shrugs without apology and grabs a salt shaker, spinning it around the table top. "I don't scream at them. I... scold. I scold them." A few salt crystals come out and drift to the dark marble. They look like snowflakes settling against black asphalt. "Some of them deserve it. Others just annoy me. It all happens for a reason." He pushes the salt shaker away and stares at his driver, cocking his head to the side. "You know I won't apologize for pouring my soul into Atlantis Consolidated while some employees are only there for the paycheck."

Jason looks as if he's about to answer, but the waitress appears with their food and interrupts him before he can start. He thanks her and begins eating straight away, but Percy takes the time to study her. _Really_ study her.

Something about her catches his attention. Maybe it's the fact that her hair is very long, and wavy.

_What does Hazel call the hairstyle again? Princess waves?_

Yes, her hair spills over her shoulders like ocean waves. A few strands are tucked into a small braid in the front, which is adorned with silver jewelry.

Or maybe it's her light grey irises that are nearly silver, focusing roughly on the task at hand.

Percy watches as she nervously chews on her simply shaded full lips, fumbling to set his cup of coffee in front of him. "Careful." He says, his tone a bit gruff. He clears his throat.

She doesn't respond, though. Instead she reaches into her apron pocket and takes out a selection of napkins before placing them on the table. She leans back with a manufactured smile. "Enjoy your meal, gentlemen."

_Something about her is very familiar. _He knows that he's seen her before, but he doesn't know where from. Percy opens his mouth to thank her, and maybe ask if they know one another, but she's already moving on to the next table, greeting customers, introducing herself, and taking orders.

"Percy, are you alright?" Jason's concerned tone forces the 27 year old to tear his gaze away from the blonde waitress and her decorated hair.

"Yeah," he says. "I'm fine. I just thought she looked very familiar."

Jason eyebrows are still raised, but he nods. He then sends a quick glance at the waitress and fixes his bright blue eyes back on his boss. "And you think she's attractive. Maybe you should put her on the List."

Percy snorts and sets his coffee back on the table before he can take a sip. "Please tell me that was a joke, Jason. She looks nothing like the women I usually date. And she's a _waitress_. My family would smell the scam from a mile away." He actually laughs this time. "Come on, now."

Jason shrugs, forking another bite of his breakfast into his mouth. "It was just a suggestion, but I can see what you mean when you put it like that." He pauses to swallow before continuing. His eyes narrow as he points his fork over at Percy. "But you do find her attractive, right?"

The 27 year old picks up his coffee mug and rolls his eyes. "I do. But I don't see how my finding her attractive is relevant in any sense." Then he sips his coffee to make a point.

Percy forces himself not to spit the drink all over the table, grimacing and swallowing it down instead. He scowls at it, noticing for the first time that the liquid is a shade of caramel brown.

_Hadn't he ordered a black coffee?_

"What's with the face?" Jason asks. His expression is curious but his posture reeks of boredom.

"This is the wrong coffee." Percy forces his voice to remain cold. "You did order a black coffee, right?"

His friend nods. "I did. It was probably just a simple mistake. Just call the waitress back over and tell her that."

Percy inhales and pushes the mug farther away from him. "You're right." Then, turning in his seat in hopes of catching the attention of a nearby worker, he calls out. "Excuse me?"

One of them begins to make her way over, but she isn't the one who had served them their breakfast. Her hair is black, her eyes are blue, and her skin is several shades tanner. But she has a genuine smile on her face. "Is there anything that you need, sir?"

The 27 year old gestures to his coffee, his tone flat. "There's been a mistake. I ordered a black coffee. Was this supposed to belong to someone else?"

She frowns, and Percy glances at her nametag. Silena. "I apologize for the mix up." She reaches for the mug and he obliges, placing it in her hand. "Do you know who served you?"

Before Percy can reply that he doesn't, Jason cuts in. "I think her name tag said Annabelle?"

Silena smiles a little at that. "Ah, I see. _Annabeth_ has to work two sections today. Not that it's much of an excuse, but she must've mixed up the orders since this isn't her usual section." She fixes her gaze on Percy, then. "I'll make sure that she brings you your original order, sir."

Jason smiles and thanks her while Percy nods without response. Silena then flashes a pearly smile, this one aimed at Jason, and walks away with the forsaken cup of coffee in her grasp.

His friend leans against his elbow. "That wasn't so difficult, now was it, Percy?"

The 27 year old rolls his eyes and tugs on the cuffs of his suit. "Oh, shut up, Jason." The blond in mention laughs at this. "None of this would've happened if you hadn't dragged me here in the first place."

He chuckles. "Bitterness is very becoming on you, Percy. Have I ever mentioned that?"

Percy rolls his eyes and slices open his eggs Benedict. "Keep it in your pants, Jason." He then pokes at the orange sauce smothering it all with a grimace. "If I had known you were going to order eggs Benedict for me I would've asked them to hold the hollandaise."

"But that's the best part." Jason grins. "Haven't you heard, Percy? You gotta have hollandaise."

The 27 year old's tone is dry. "Of course. How could I forget that?"

After a few minutes of mindless conversation, the waitress reappears. Percy's gaze is fixed to her. She remains silent as she places the new mug of steaming black coffee on the table. Her waves are tied up in a bun this time around, though.

_She looks so familiar_, he thinks to himself. _Why can't I put my finger on it?_

Then she straightens, her clear skin nearly glowing from the sunlight that filters through the window. "Is that all you need, sir?" Her words are polite but he can see the fatigue behind her eyes.

Percy's focus is drawn away from trying to decipher where he's seen her before and he roots himself back to reality. Her gray eyes are fixated on him as she awaits his answer. She folds her arms over her chest and leans a little to the right.

He takes a sip of his coffee to make sure it's just as he wanted. Jason pokes at his dippy eggs and soldiers and drinks his tea. Percy suppresses a smile as he turns back to the waitress. He glances at her nametag. _Annabeth_.

An eyebrow cocks as she repeats her question. "Please understand that I have other tables to wait on, sir. Is there anything you need?"

Percy clears his throat and twists his watch. "I apologize." He glances up at her and for a reason, relishes in the slight surprise that unfolds on her face. His tone remains cold, though. "Thank you for bringing me the correct coffee."

Something flashes in her pale eyes as she nods stiffly and turns to walk away. Percy forces himself not to stare as she greets more diners, and he takes a sip of his coffee.

. .

"So are you going to tell me what the hell that was?"

The 27 year old looks up from his phone and stares into the rear view mirror where he can see only one of Jason's blue eyes. His friend's eyebrow twitches slightly as his gaze flickers back and forth from the road to the mirror. Percy slips his phone into his breast pocket. "What are you talking about?" He asks.

Jason chuckles. "Your patience. With the waitress, I mean. I've never seen it before. I was honestly prepared for you to cause a scene of some sort or another."

"Elaborate please, Jason. What kind of scene?"

"I was expecting you to scold her," his friend mocks his choice of wording.

Percy shakes his head. "Why would I throw a temper tantrum over something that I could have at home for free?"

"Are you sure that's the only reason?" His driver snorts.

_Bloody hell._

The 27 year old feigns ignorance. "I don't know what you mean by that."

"Don't think I didn't notice how you couldn't stop looking at her, Percy."

"I forced myself to stop looking at her," he mumbles in response. Percy feels his cheeks warming. He shrugs off the embarrassment and fishes his phone from his pocket, prepared to call Hazel. "And anyways, I don't see what my patience has to do with her attractiveness. There's no correlation, Jason."

Something indescribable flashes in his friend's eyes. "I wish you would apply that logic to your work space, then. People make mistakes, Percy. You know that. It's all a part of being human."

Percy hears his father's voice even though he's the one speaking. "And that's exactly why we can't afford to make mistakes. Again, there's no correlation between that waitress and my employees, Jason."

His friend remains silent at that. His jaw clenches and his eyes stay fixed on the road ahead for the rest of the car ride.

Percy rakes his hand through his hair after a deep sigh and scrolls through his phone. He calls Hazel's number.

It rings once. Twice. Pause. Four times.

Just before he can end the call, a sleepy voice sounds from the other end. "What the fuck do you want, Percy? I'm trying to sleep." She's irritated.

He glances at his watch with a frown. "It's nearly 10, Elle. You should've been at the agency already."

Hazel groans and the sound of sheets ruffling fills his ears. "Danielle hasn't called me yet. So that means I don't have a shoot for today, Brother. Now let me sleep, I have a damn migraine."

He chuckles at that. "Meaning you went to a party last night."

She huffs in response. "Obviously. I, being the idiot I am, allowed Bianca and Zoë talk me into mixing up rum and vodka with a twist of champagne. The last thing I remember is dancing my ass off behind the bar. Now my tongue feels like meatloaf and my throat is on fire."

"Am I supposed to feel sympathy for you?"

"Shut up, Percy." His younger sister growls before being interrupted by a voice that he recognizes.

"Elle? _Con quién estás hablando?_" [Who are you talking to?]

Percy raises an eyebrow.

Hazel hisses loud enough for him to hear. "Quiet, Leo."

He forces his tone to remain emotionless. "Where are you, Hazel?"

Jason's gaze flickers to the mirror for a brief second before he shakes his head to himself and slides up the window.

Hazel curses in Italian, her voice filling the line. "I'm in New York, Brother. Exactly where I'm supposed to be."

A drop of warning enters his words. "Don't lie to me, Elle. _O me lo dici o lo dici a papà._" [Either you tell me or you tell Father.]

His sister caves, sighing deeply before whispering into the phone. "Okay, fine. I'm at Leo's apartment. He took me home last night."

Percy pinches the bridge of his nose. "Hazel," he sighs. "You have to be more responsible, please. I can't always check up on you and Leo won't always be there."

"Then don't check up on me," is her bitter response. She continues. "And you're not in any position to say where Leo's gonna be. Plus, where Leo isn't, Frank is." Then Hazel inhales sharply and mumbles out another curse. "Just... don't tell my mom or Dad, okay?"

He doesn't respond.

"Please, _fratello_." Her words are pleading enough, but Hazel knows better than to be fooled.

"I won't. You know I won't." He begins.

"Thank y-"

"-But next time you beg for something like that, please make sure your boyfriend's mouth isn't between your legs." He grimaces. "I can fucking hear the suction."

Hazel begins to protest in embarrassment but Percy ends the call before she completes her first sentence. He sighs heavily and leans back against his seat, staring at the ceiling of the car. The 27 year old swallows then, before muttering out, "I love you too, Hazel."

.

.

**Author's Note-**

**AGAIN. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR STICKING AROUND.**

**Percy's family situation will be explained later on when the plot calls for it, but YES. Hazel IS his younger sister. And yes, they DO speak Italian (which will ALSO be explained later).**

**_love, April!_**


	3. Chapter Three: Featuring Telemarketers

_**the biggest of thank you's to everyshadedsilver who beta read this for me. **_

* * *

Summary

_Annabeth Chase __is just a 25 year old waitress trying desperately to pay her next bill and take proper care of her 13 year old younger brother. Life for her is simple, and as much as she tries to convince her otherwise, she doesn't like it that way._

_Perseus "Percy" Jackson is a prominent 27 year old businessman who will do anything to inherit what was promised to him. But getting that inheritance has proved to be a lot more difficult than he'd anticipated._

_With the deadline looming over his horizon, how far is he willing to go to get what's his? And how far is Annabeth willing to go to provide her brother the childhood he deserves?_

_An engagement contract seems a simple enough answer to their problems, but is it?_

* * *

_**Annabeth**_

_It's only 10:30._

Annabeth forces herself not to complain as another ache shoots up her back. For the past 2 and a half hours she's been traveling back and forth between the kitchen, the counter, and the countless tables of customers awaiting their food.

Her feet are cursing her, her back already warned her, and her bun is pulling on her scalp tight enough to herald an oncoming headache.

_But she loves her job and it pays well. She'll never truly complain._

Annabeth bends over her work. Her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows as she plunges the sponge and the numerous dirty plates into the grayed soapy water. Behind her, the kitchen door swings open, but she doesn't pay full attention.

After cleaning the last plate, she drains the water and sets it on the shelf where Calypso (or Caly, as she demands to be called) will take it to dry. Annabeth dries her hands on a towel and pushes through the door. She grabs her apron from where it hangs on a rack and quickly ties it around her waist, slipping the cord through her belt loops.

Silena catches her attention and points her to her usually assigned section. Annabeth smiles to herself in relief. _That means Silena's covering for Piper for the time being._ She nods at her boss gratefully and grabs a pen and notepad, making her way to her first table.

Waiting for her is a family of 3- a brunette man with green eyes and a blond with brown eyes. Seated between them is a little boy with blond hair who seems to be around 3 or 4.

Annabeth smiles genuinely at the sight of the child, despite the fact that her body is screaming for rest. She recites the required greeting. "Hi there, and welcome to Trio's Cafe. My name is Annabeth," she pauses to tap her name tag thrice before continuing. "And I'll be your waitress this morning. What can I get you folks?"

The man with brown hair looks up with a smile. "I'd like the buttermilk pancakes and a mug of hazelnut coffee, please."

She nods, scribbling the order down. "Would you like any creamer, milk, or sugar in that, sir? Maybe some half and half?"

He pauses to think about it before confirming he wants vanilla creamer and eight sugars.

The waitress nods, forcing her expression to remain pokered at the sound of all the sugar. The blond man reacts, though.

He frowns. "Mason, don't you think that's a bit too sweet? You know Type 2 is already common on your side of the family-"

Mason waves it off. "Don't worry about it, Hunter. I'm already prescribed. Besides, all of it is under 400 grams of trans-fat and sugars. I checked."

The blond, Hunter, nods warily while he turns to Annabeth. He clears his throat. "I'll have the sunny side up eggs and your Nutella swirl waffles."

She writes it down. "And to drink, sir?"

"Just a water is fine, thanks." He offers.

Annabeth points towards the little boy who's playing with a toy car on the surface of the table. She can't hide the smile from stretching on her face. "And for him?"

Both Mason and Hunter look at the boy and answer in unison. "Chocolate chip pancakes and chocolate milk."

She chuckles at this and writes down the rest of the order. "Alright, I'll have your food out quicker than three shakes. Sit tight, folks." Annabeth forces herself not to cringe at the required exit.

The men nod and turn their attention to the little boy.

She smiles at that as she walks back to the kitchen. The sight of the boy reminds her of her past, way back before Harley was born and back before everything went sour.

_She misses it._

The 25 year old forces that thought from her mind and pushes through the door that separates the dining area from the staff only section. _She can't afford to think like that._

_And besides_, she mentions to herself. _You have Harley all to yourself now._

Annabeth rips the page of order from her notepad and goes into the kitchen. She sticks the sheet on the bar above the stove for the cook to see and exits back to the dining area. A dirty table in her section catches her attention, so she makes her way over.

Barely two minutes into cleaning it off, she feels a light tap on her shoulder. Annabeth straightens and spins to see Calypso standing behind her, arms full of dirty dishes and face wearing her trademark smirk.

Annabeth wipes her hands on her apron and sets the plate she's holding on a nearby cart. "Hey, Caly. What's up?"

Calypso tosses her head, her loose curls flying in the opposite direction. Then she looks back at Annabeth and her smirk widens.

"...What?"

Calypso rolls her eyes and drops her armload of dishes onto the cart. Her light brown irises lighten a little. "Hotties at 3 o'clock. That's what."

Annabeth looks towards the direction that Calypso had pointed out earlier. A few rows away she sees two men sitting at a booth.

Her coworker continues. "I passed by their table earlier. They're both amazingly handsome- especially the blond one. They're both foreign, I think. The blond one has an English accent and the other guy was on the phone speaking in another language. Maybe Italian? I don't know."

Annabeth forces herself not to stare at the men and turns back to her friend. Her head tilts to the side. "And why exactly do I need this information, Calypso?"

Calypso ignores that she's been called by her full name (one of her pet peeves) and places her hands on Annabeth's shoulders. "Beth. Tell me when you last went on a date."

"Why do you care? I need to work."

"Just tell me." She pleads.

The blonde sighs heavily. "I don't know... my first semester of college, maybe? I don't remember."

"And that was what, six years ago?"

"Seven." She corrects her by reflex. "But Caly-"

"-Do me a favor and just get one of their numbers. _Please_."

Annabeth steps away from her embrace. "You don't even know if I'm into dudes."

Calypso arches an eyebrow.

"Okay, I _am_. But that's irrelevant." She turns back to her work. "I still have Piper's work to get done once Silena's done covering for me. I can't get distracted now."

"I'll take over your work for you in the meantime." Calypso offers. "I was just about to start my break anyways."

That raises Annabeth's eyebrows. "Why do you want me to serve those guys so bad?"

Her coworker shrugs. "I don't really know. I just really want you to, though. What's the worst that can happen?" She nudges Annabeth in their direction. "C'mon..."

Annabeth huffs and shakes her head. "Fine. I'd rather be waiting on customers than cleaning tables anyways."

Calypso smirks again and pats her shoulder. "Atta girl," she says and walks away with the cart.

Annabeth heads back towards the kitchen to get the family from earlier their breakfast. She grabs a tray and loads their plates, desperate not to keep them waiting. _She needs a good tip._

She places a steaming mug of coffee before the man named Mason and shoots off. Maybe he was going to complain, because Annabeth catches a glimpse of a frown forming on his face. But she's long gone before the first sound can come out.

The 25 year old slows her pace halfway to the men's table. The one facing her is on the phone, his posture a bit tense. His face is angled towards the window, but she can see his stubbled jawline just fine. The nearer she gets to their table, the clearer she can make out his words. She doesn't know for _sure_ what Italian sounds like, but the language he speaks sounds a lot like what she assumes it to sound like.

_As if that makes sense._

For a reason she cannot decipher, Annabeth feels a surge of nervousness in her chest. She can't say that she likes it. After all, she's survived too many tedious custody court trials. She's survived an uncalled for attack via plastic ladle from her bitch of a stepmother (a story that's too long to talk about).

She didn't get nervous then. _Why is she nervous now?_

She takes in a deep breath and releases her blonde tresses from their bun, deciding that her hairline is in need of a break. Then Annabeth makes her way to the table and begins a different required greeting. "Hello, welcome to Trio's Cafe. What would you like to order?"

The Italian-speaking man to her right speaks into his phone. "_Aspetta un secondo_." Then he turns to the blond across from him and nods a little.

The blond understands and looks towards the waitress, beginning to order.

Annabeth swallows as she catches sight of his bright blue eyes and tousled hair. She takes a deep breath and opens her notepad, pretending to be unfazed by the fact that he has the looks of a god. "Hi! Welcome to Trio's Cafe. My name is Annabeth," she repeats while tapping her nametag. "And I will be your waitress this morning. What can I get you?"

The man scans his menu and licks his thin lips, seemingly out of habit. Annabeth waits patiently. After a few moments, he looks up with a boyish smile and an English accent filters his words. "I'd like the dippy eggs and soldiers with a cup of lemon tea. Thank you."

The corner of her lips involuntarily pull up into a smile and she points her pen towards the man on the phone. He casts a glance at her, and she catches sight of deep, stormy green eyes. When he turns back towards the window, however, his irises are the same shade as stainless steel.

"-Coffee." The English man finishes.

She inwardly slaps herself. _Focus_. "I'm sorry," Annabeth begins with a flair of embarrassment. "What was that?"

His eyes twinkle with unshed laughter as he repeats with a smirk, the scar on his lip curling into a half-circle. "As for my friend here, he'd like Belgian waffles, eggs Benedict, and a mug of black coffee."

Annabeth bites her lip as a way to cope with her humiliation (and fails) while nodding. "Alright." She slips her notepad into the pocket of her apron. "I'll be out with your orders very soon."

She can't force herself to say the required lines all the time. Sue her, _she doesn't care._

. .

"Annabeth, you served-" Silena begins.

The 25 year old lifts her hand to cut her boss off. "I know," she sighs. "I served the wrong coffee. The man at the table just informed me of that. I accidentally switched the mugs in my hurry to get them their food."

Silena gives her an understanding smile and takes the cup of long cold coffee from her hands. "I'll make another one of these. Go serve that handsome guy in your section."

Annabeth stares at her with incredulity lacing her expression.

Silena shrugs. "I saw them for myself. Caly doesn't lie. They're attractive."

"Caly isn't even attracted to men."

"Which makes her opinion that much more profound. Now go."

Annabeth sighs for what feels like the eightieth time that day and brews a cup of black coffee. Her hair goes back into its bun. When the drink is ready, she picks it up and makes her way over to the men's table.

The fact that she'd failed in serving the correct order the first time weighs heavier on her than she likes. But she can't shake the embarrassment from her gait as she approaches their seating. The walk is over far too soon.

Both men turn to look at her. The blond one gives her another one of his smirks and continues to sip on his tea. But Annabeth can feel the Italian-speaking one's gaze on her as she sets the new mug in front of him.

Then she straightens. "Is that all you need, sir?" Her words are polite. She makes sure that they are, but for some reason Annabeth is more tired than usual and all she wants is rest. The 25 year old folds her arms over her chest and shifts her weight to the right.

Their gazes meet and she finds herself forcing to stare into those swirling green eyes of his. He breaks away to take a sip of his coffee, and Annabeth holds her breath.

_She's always strived for the approval of customers. She'll never know why, though._

The blond pokes at his dippy eggs and soldiers. The Italian-speaking one turns back to her, and she can see that he's fighting back a smile. He glances at her name tag.

Annabeth has to refrain from smiling back. Even though his gaze is still... _cold_, his smile seems genuine enough. But on the other hand, that fact alone is enough to put her off. She cocks an eyebrow instead. "Please understand that I have other tables to wait on, sir. Is there anything else you need?"

The man clears his throat and twists his expensive looking watch. She isn't expecting his voice to be so _deep_, or an apology to sound out either. Annabeth can't hide the surprise from unfolding on her face. He continues, his tone still cold. "Thank you for bringing me the correct coffee."

Something about that last statement is a jab to her emotions, but she tries not to let it show. _She's never been good at poker faces, to be honest._ Annabeth nods stiffly and walks away. But even so, she can still feel his eyes watching her as she begins greeting other customers.

It takes several moments for that feeling to go away.

. .

Annabeth is beyond thankful when she finally takes a break for her lunch. _Beyond thankful._

She walks into the lounge and glances at the clock even though she already knows that it's past 1:30. She chooses one of the plush armchairs and drags it over to a table. Calypso follows suit, swinging her _Paul_ _Frank_ lunch box (yes, the company with the monkey). Said girl then plops down beside Annabeth and groans before bundling her loose hair into a lazy top knot.

Annabeth goes to the fridge to pull out her chilled pasta. Calypso tosses her a plastic fork after she sits down and the pair dig into their lunches.

Several minutes pass before the silence is broken. Calypso swallows down a bite of her cheese and avocado sandwich. "So," she begins. "How was McHottie Thing 1 and 2?"

Annabeth laughs under her breath before sobering. She has to think about it. The Italian-speaking man's deep green eyes and cold expression flashes across the forefront of her mind. She settles for a shrug instead. "I don't... know."

Calypso frowns. "The hell does that mean?"

Annabeth shrugs again. "Exactly what I just said. I don't know."

"Did you get either of their numbers?"

"No."

"Why not?" Another bite of sandwich.

Annabeth sips at her water. "I was more preoccupied with getting him his right coffee. Getting his number didn't even cross my mind. It seemed inappropriate given the situation, anyways." She pokes at her ravioli.

Calypso nods a little. "'Kay, that actually makes sense." She finishes off her sandwich. "What impression did they give you, though? 'Cuz I was getting really weird vibes from them."

"Me too," Annabeth admits. She frowns a little.

"That's... weird."

"Definitely weird."

.

.

**Author's Note-**

**Thank you again for reading and sticking around! I hope you enjoyed.**

**Leave a review or something or whatever**

**(Update schedule = whenever I feel like it)**

_**love, April!**_


	4. Chapter Four: Featuring Perfectionists

_**the biggest of thank you's to everyshadedsilver who beta read this for me. **_

* * *

Summary

_Annabeth Chase __is just a 25 year old waitress trying desperately to pay her next bill and take proper care of her 13 year old younger brother. Life for her is simple, and as much as she tries to convince her otherwise, she doesn't like it that way._

_Perseus "Percy" Jackson is a prominent 27 year old businessman who will do anything to inherit what was promised to him. But getting that inheritance has proved to be a lot more difficult than he'd anticipated._

_With the deadline looming over his horizon, how far is he willing to go to get what's his? And how far is Annabeth willing to go to provide her brother the childhood he deserves?_

_An engagement contract seems a simple enough answer to their problems, but is it? __And as Annabeth is drawn further and further into Percy's world, how long until she uncovers the truth behind his family's wealth?_

* * *

**_Perseus_**

**_._**

Before long, Jason is pulling up to the entrance of Atlantis Consolidated. Perseus slips his phone into his pocket and opens the car door. He knocks on the window that's dividing him and his driver. "Thanks, Jace."

The window lowers just as the 27 year old places a foot on the manicured sidewalk outside the car. Their eyes meet in the rear view mirror and Jason nods, inhaling sharply through his nostrils.

Something's bothering him.

Percy's eyebrows pinch as he opens his mouth to speak. But before he can breathe a word, his friend is turning around in his seat. Jason's eyes are blank and cool. "You're going to be late, sir."

_Sir?_

The businessman swallows thickly. Jason has never called him _sir_ in all the years that they've known each other. _Was he angry with him?_

Jason raises an eyebrow and stares. "You should get going. You know your father is going to be angry at your tardiness."

Perseus exhales, his heart thumping. "You're right. I'll see you at lunch, Jason."

His friend doesn't respond and turns in his seat. His sky colored irises follow the moving traffic ahead.

Percy exits the car and shuts the door. Jason waits for a few seconds before speeding off. The 27 year old takes in a heavy breath and turns, ignoring the shameless paparazzi pretending to hide in the bushes as he walks into the building.

Employees scramble out of his path as he moves towards the elevators. A few brave ones mumble out greetings and good-mornings. Percy nods and grunts in response, occasionally lifting a hand.

And like always, he finds himself in the elevator alone.

_He still doesn't know if he likes it._

. .

"Good morning, Mr. Jackson." His secretary moves her eyes from her computer screen to grin at him.

He slows his gait. "How many times will I have to tell you not to call me that, Peyton?"

She shrugs, her smile faltering.

Perseus glances at his watch. "Also, do you know if my father is here yet?"

Peyton nods swiftly. He watches her ponytail swing as she files through her folders with expertise. "He's been here since 8."

The Greek fights back a curse.

His secretary continues without missing a beat. "Mr. Jackson, Sr. wanted me to tell you that he needs to speak with you as soon as he's available."

Percy can't refrain from sighing even if he wanted to. Already, he can sense the pending lecture that looms over his horizon. "How long until he goes back to Italy? Or Greece?"

Peyton smiles. "Lance tells me that his flight is scheduled for Saturday night."

"_Thank_ _God_." Percy pinches the bridge of his nose and walks into his office. His secretary hurries after him. "Is there anything else?" He asks as he sinks into his swivel chair. "Specifically for me?"

She shakes her head. Her green eyes flicker around the room, as if she's uncomfortable. "No, just a missed call from Ireland."

Perseus groans inwardly. "Was it from Dare? _Di 'al bastardo che può baciare il mio-_" [Tell the bastard he can kiss my-]

His secretary cuts him off, her cheeks warming. "No, sir. It was from his daughter, Rachel." She bites her lip.

He can't ignore the fact that Rachel Dare is calling him _again_. Percy leans over his desk, massaging his temples. "_Scopami_," he whispers under his breath. Then, moving back to his original position, he nods at her. "Thank you, Peyton. Let me know when anything changes."

"Of course, sir." Peyton turns and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

He drags a hand down his face and lets out a groan. _Just a few more months, just a few more months._

_Hang in there, Percy._

The young businessman turns in his seat and faces the window that takes up an entire wall of his office. He gazes at the horizon that hides behind the city skyline.

"Of course he would force me to get engaged," Perseus whispers to himself. He gets up from his seat and walks over to the window, leaning against it. His closed fist presses against the glass. "Not he. _They. They forced me to._"

He rests his forehead to the window. On paper, getting engaged to Rachel Dare makes the most sense. She's attractive (although subjectively), well educated, wealthy, and classy (again, subjectively). _She's everything his parents would approve of in a daughter in law._

"But damn," he chuckles without humor. "I hate her fucking guts."

_So who does that leave to engage?_

Percy's thoughts whisper back to Jason's earlier suggestion. _Annabeth_. For a few moments, he sees her full lips and silver eyes and wavy blonde hair. He sees her gracious jawline and confident stance.

_But she's a waitress._

He's almost sad as he pulls away from the window. His family would never approve, or believe it for that matter. His grandfather would probably turn over in his grave if he weren't still alive and kicking.

Percy pinches the bridge of his nose. "So _who_ does that leave?"

His train of thought is forced to a halt as Peyton opens the door. She leans into the room, but even from his position from afar he can see her inherent apprehension. "Your father would like to see you now, Mr. Ja- Perseus." She blushes. "Mr. Perseus."

Percy chuckles despite the fact that his headache throbs all the stronger. "Thank you, Peyton."

She nods with a tight smile before disappearing behind the door.

He straightens his suit jacket and adjusts his watch. His father is the living, breathing description of a perfectionist. The sight of disorganization makes him angry.

Perseus looks over his appearance one last time before sucking in a sharp breath and leaving his office.

. .

"Good morning, Father." He manages his keep his tone balanced.

Poseidon Jackson lifts his cold green eyes and stares at his son with impassiveness overtaking his gaze. "You were late."

Perseus bites back a snort. He should've known that his father wouldn't return his greeting. "Jason took me to breakfast this morning and the waitress messed up my order. But my apologies, Father. It won't happen again."

"I know it won't." His answer his gruff as he stiffly gestures towards the seats that lay before his desk. "Have a seat, Perseus. We have much to talk about."

The 27 year old sinks into a chair, confusion riddling his mind. "What about?"

His father takes a drink of water from the glass that sits on his desk, finishing it off. "Your inheritance. Or," he pauses to place the glass back on the table and folds his hands. "The lack of it since you haven't gotten engaged yet." His frown is disapproving.

"I'm working on it, and you _know_ that, Father." Percy tugs on the cuffs of his suit absentmindedly.

Poseidon stands and begins pacing. "_Working on it_ isn't going to cut it and _you_ know that, Percy." He stops to gaze at his son. "Your grandfather's death is right around the corner. You need to find a bride _now_."

The 27 year old lifts a hand and tilts his head to the side. "Wait, wait, wait. How do you know he's about to die?"

His father continues pacing. "I got a call from the hospital last night. He had another seizure and-"

Percy grips the arm-rests of his plush chair, apprehension curling around his heart. "What? Why was I not made aware of this? _When were you planning on telling me? _Do Mom or Hazel know? What about Bianca or Nico? Tyson? Estel-"

Poseidon pauses his gait to send an icy glare at his son. "Do not cut me off ever again, Percy. Get a hold of yourself." A flair of disgust flashes into his irises before he continues pacing. "But to answer your question, yes, your mother is already aware of it. She was at the hospital herself last night. And as for you and the others, I was waiting until the time was right."

Perseus nods stiffly and purses his lips into a thin line. _What a bullshitty, cliché excuse._ He watches as his father audibly grunts and heads back over to his desk.

Poseidon sits down and presses a button on his pager. "Ms. Lance," he calls.

"Yes, Mr. Jackson?" His secretary's response is almost instantaneous.

"Bring me a cup of coffee and a bottle of water to my office. _Now_."

"Yes, sir." The line goes dead.

Percy's father reaches into his desk and pulls out a bottle of aspirin. He shakes his head and looks towards his son. "As I was saying, you don't have much time before your grandfather dies, Perseus. The more time between his death and your engagement, the better. You and I both know that the money and the position will automatically go to one of your siblings or cousins a week after the funeral- and none of them are fit to run Atlantis Consolidated."

Out of reflex, the 27 year old swallows thickly and rakes a hand through his hair. "But who am I to marry?"

His father opens his mouth to answer but falters when the door opens and Anna Lance rushes in with a water bottle and a cup of coffee. Both men remain silent as they wait for her to set the beverages on the desk.

"Thank you, Ms. Lance." Poseidon's acknowledgment is brisk and brief.

She nods without response and exits the room.

Poseidon cracks open his bottle of water then shakes out two pills into his palm. He swallows down both with a gulp before turning to his son.

Perseus repeats his question. "Who am I supposed to marry? _Rachel_ _Dare_?"

His father frowns. "That Irish art model?"

The 27 year old nods, a bit caught off guard by his father's expression.

Poseidon strokes the stubble dappling his jawline. "Well, your mother seems to have taken a liking to her. And I'm sure that she's worked with Hazel before. We know her family and I'm good friends with her father..."

Percy fights off the urge to shudder or grimace.

His father continues, waving his hand. "No. She won't work."

Confusion expands in his chest. "What?"

Poseidon elaborates, folding his hands over his desk after taking a sip of his coffee. "Your grandfather will smell the falsity of the engagement from miles away. Rachel is simply too _obvious_ of a choice."

"She's my back up, just in case I don't find a girl."

His father shakes his head. "Time is running out, Perseus. You have to find a girl- a normal one. No one will expect that, which will make it all the more believable."

_Yeah, right._

"Well then, who do I ask?" Percy forces himself to meet his father's gaze. "It's not as if I can just walk out on the street and ask a random girl to marry me."

Poseidon tilts his head. "You mean to tell me you don't have anyone in mind? You aren't friends with _any_ girls from middle class families?"

"I have you and Mom to blame for that." The 27 year old tugs on the sleeves of his suit and readjusts his watch. "I'm not even sure Hazel knew poverty _existed_ until she was 11." Percy's gaze moves from his father's glare to the steaming cup of coffee upon the desk. Seeing the dark liquid reminded him of TC, and the fumbling waitress with the blonde hair. "Actually," he begins, slowly dragging his focus to his father's face.

Poseidon motions for him to continue.

"I do think I have a woman in mind, Father. A normal one, at least." He swallows, already inwardly cursing himself for opening his mouth in the first place.

His father raises an eyebrow. "And who might she be?"

_There's no turning back now._

Perseus straightens, and before he can lose his nerve, he answers. "Her name is Annabeth. And she's the waitress who messed up my order earlier this morning."

.

.

**Author's Note-**

**Thanks again for deciding this was worth the read! **

**I really hope you enjoyed.**

**Leave a review or something and tell me what you think.**

_**love, April!**_


	5. Chapter Five: Featuring Phone Calls

_**the biggest of thank you's to everyshadedsilver who beta read this for me.**_

* * *

Summary

_Annabeth Chase __is just a 25 year old waitress trying desperately to pay her next bill and take proper care of her 13 year old younger brother. Life for her is simple, and as much as she tries to convince her otherwise, she doesn't like it that way._

_Perseus "Percy" Jackson is a prominent 27 year old businessman who will do anything to inherit what was promised to him. But getting that inheritance has proved to be a lot more difficult than he'd anticipated._

_With the deadline looming over his horizon, how far is he willing to go to get what's his? How far is Annabeth willing to go to provide her brother the childhood he deserves?_

_An engagement contract seems a simple enough answer to their problems, but is it? __And as Annabeth is drawn further and further into Percy's world, how long until she uncovers the truth behind his family's wealth?_

* * *

_**Annabeth**_

"Silena, I'm leaving!" Annabeth calls over her shoulder as she unties her apron and slips the cords from her belt loops. She unties her bun and breathes a sigh of relief as the tension leaves her head. She shakes out her blonde waves.

Her boss lets out a mangled noise. "Huh? Whadjya say?"

The 25 year old rolls her eyes. She yells a little louder this time, making sure she's closer to Silena's office too. "I _said_ I'm leaving now! My shift is over and I need to pick up Harley from school."

The sound of Silena's swivel chair squeaking as she stands reaches Annabeth's ears. She pokes her head out of her office. "Well _damn_, woman, I heard you. Don't know why you're screaming your lungs out."

Annabeth rolls her eyes again but even so, she has to fight the grin that's pulling on the edges of her lips. "This is the last time I'm working overtime. Just so you know." She cocks an eyebrow at her boss and tosses her apron onto a rack where it would stay all weekend_ (God willing)_.

Silena nods, her dark hair spilling over her face a little. She brushes it away while answering. "Yeah, I know. I wish I didn't have to have you work overtime, but with Piper out and everything, I just-"

The 25 year old raises a hand. Silena's words slow to a stop. Annabeth smiles understandingly. "I know, I know. Trust me, Sil, I get it." She pulls a fake piece of lint from her clothing. "I was just letting you know. And anyways, I need my evenings to be free."

Her boss snorts. "Since when?" Then, already moving on from the subject, she continues. "Anyways, I'm about to close up early. Calypso took off a while ago to visit her mother in the hospital and Pie's condition is somehow worse than it was this morning." She grabs her keys. "Do you need a ride to JMMS?"

Both of Annabeth's eyebrows lift. "And what's going to happen to Piper?"

Silena finally unties her apron and scoffs dryly. "I already called the Walking Migrain a town car. Drew is waiting for her at their apartment right now." She grabs her purse. "So do you need a ride?"

_It's her pride that makes her hesitate._ Annabeth has to stop and think about it. Finally, she nods along to the offer. "Okay, fine."

"Good," Silena smiles. She shrugs on her leather jacket and zips it up over her charcoal toned necktie. "I can even drop you guys off at home if it's on my way."

Annabeth folds her arms comfortably over her chest. "And if it isn't?"

"Then you bitches better take the bus."

The two of them laugh at that and Annabeth releases her arms from their snug hold against her chest. "Alright, alright. Let's just go." She glances at her phone to check the time. "School's already out for him."

Silena raises an eyebrow, slight confusion spreading over her face. "What do you mean _already_? It's 4:18 pm."

Annabeth shrugs. "JMMS lets out later than other schools. But to be fair, they begin a lot later too."

"Is that what Harley tells you?"

The 25 year old frowns, grabbing her keys from the hook that they hang on behind the counter. "What do you mean by that?"

"He could be regularly attending detention." Silena suggests while slinging her purse over her shoulder.

Annabeth chuckles. "Believe what you want, McBeauregard."

"I plan to, Chase," is her cheeky response.

Annabeth flicks her arm goodnaturedly and twirls her keys around her finger as she waits for Silena to close up. Aforementioned woman slams the door closed and locks it. The 25 year old leans against the graffiti splattered brick wall of the alley way and stares at her boss's shiny black sedan.

"That's a pretty nice ride," she nods in approval of it.

Silena turns. "Huh?" Then she follows Annabeth's gaze and smiles a little. "Oh, my car."

Annabeth chuckles. "What else would I be talking about?"

Her boss rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Anyways, thank you." They make their way to the car. "I got it as a birthday present my sophomore year of college."

Annabeth whistles. "Nice." She waits for the doors to unlock. "I'm still saving up to get a car of my own. I'm really close too, just a little less than two thousand left."

The older of the two hums in agreement as she digs around in her purse for something. "It's a blessing and a curse, though. The amount of money that leaves my bank account whenever my tank is empty is enough to make me cry. You only have to pay a few cents or so every time you take the bus."

The 25 year old shrugs. "That's true, but at least you never have to worry about what's happened on your seats whenever you get in your car."

"Well, in that case there's always the subway." Silena laughs and unlocks the car.

Annabeth laughs with her and pulls the passenger door open. She drops her bag onto the floor and reaches over to close it. Once inside, she breathes softly in appreciation of the leather interiors. The waitress runs her fingers over the smooth black material.

Silena can hardly hide her snicker as she watches Annabeth. "It's a lot of beauty to behold, isn't it, Chase?"

She sticks her tongue out at her in response. "Shut up."

Her boss flicks her forehead and adjusts the rearview mirror. "Yes, dear." She starts the car. "To James Monroe Middle School we go!"

"You do know where you're going, right?" Annabeth deadpans as she turns up the radio.

Silena pulls out of the alley, checking both sides of the street for incoming traffic. "Of course... just show me where to go."

Annabeth rolls her eyes and chuckles at this but gives her the directions anyways. She's just finishing up when she feels a slight vibration in her pocket. She pulls out her phone, eyebrows pinching as she stares at the screen. It's a phone call from a number that she doesn't recognize.

Her boss cuts her a quick glance, undoubtedly seeing the twisted expression on her face. "Who's that?" She asks.

The 25 year old shakes her head. "No idea."

Silena frowns. "Hm, why don't you answer it? You never know- it might be a long lost relative looking for an heir."

Annabeth almost snorts. "As if I'm going to be getting any large quantities of money anytime soon. Don't make me laugh," she continues, waiting for the call to run its course. "I don't like answering the phone when I don't know who's on the other end. I haven't applied to any jobs recently, so _why_ would anyone have reason to call me?" She huffs and twists a few golden strands of hair between her fingers. "And those telemarketers can kiss my ass."

Her boss cackles. "You're preaching to the choir, honey."

The car falls silent for a few more minutes. Annabeth takes the time to make an attempt in soothing her headache. But that moment is cut short when her phone rings again.

She frowns at it. _It's the same number from before._

"Is it the same person?" Silena cuts her a glance.

The 25 year old nods. "It is. I'll just take the call when I get home- see whatever this weirdo wants from me."

The older of the two puffs out a small breath of humor. "Well at least now you know it isn't a telemarketer."

"True." Annabeth laughs.

Before long, the pair of women are pulling into the JMMS parking lot. Annabeth exits the car and runs up to her little brother.

He jumps when she slings her arm over his shoulder. "What's up, kiddo?"

Harley maintains an unaffected facade. He shrugs. "Nothing much."

But she can see the lie right on his face. Annabeth scoffs, humor pulling on the edges of her lips. "That's a definite untruth. I know you want to ask me something, Harley."

He pauses and turns towards her. His dark coils of hair ruffle in the breeze, some curls falling over his deep brown eyes. Annabeth fights the urge to make a sad face. Despite having dark eyes, he looks so much like their mother... it's scary.

Harley folds his arms over his chest. "What are you talking about?" He demands.

The older of the two raises an eyebrow and leans against a nearby tree. "You do that thing with your eyebrows whenever you're contemplating something."

Evident embarrassment spreads over his features. "What thing?"

She points to his face, laughter bubbling in her chest. "_That_ thing."

Harley sputters, "I do not!" His eyebrows un-furrow.

"Just ask me what you want to ask already, Harley. Silena's waiting for us in the car and I'm pretty sure she has things to do."

Her younger brother cocks his head to the side. "Silena? As in your _boss_, Silena? Why is she waiting for us?"

Annabeth waves off his questions. "She offered to give us a ride home so we wouldn't have to take the bus." Then her eyes narrow at him. "And don't be trying to change the subject either, Harley Benaimino Chase. I know what you're doing."

His cheeks flush at the sound of his full name. "_Fine, fine, fine_." He turns away from his sister and scans the crowd of students pouring from the entrance of the school. Finally, his eyes stop moving and he turns back to her. He stretches his index finger in that direction. "You see that girl over there? The one with the long dark hair tied in a ponytail?"

Annabeth follows his line of sight, and eventually her gaze falls on a girl sitting on a bench. She's sketching something, gnawing on the pencil as she studies the page. Her backpack is propped next to her foot, but all the 25 year old can really focus on are her paint splattered jeans.

Annabeth turns to grin at her brother. "And who is that?" Her voice drips with amusement.

He turns away from her, scratching at the back of his neck, showcasing his obvious discomfort. "That's my friend, Anyssa. She invited me over earlier and I wanted to run it by you first."

The waitress forces down a chuckle. "She's _just_ a friend? Then why am I only hearing of her now? You've already told me about all your other friends, Harley Boy."

Harley scowls through his embarrassment and swats his sister's poking hand away. "Just tell me your verdict please, Anna."

"I'd rather meet her," is Annabeth's faux malicious response. Her brother protests and she drags him over to where Anyssa sits. "She's just a friend, so you should have _no_ problem with this, right?"

Harley falls silent as soon as they approach. His friend looks up in surprise, her eyebrows lifting.

Annabeth sticks out a hand, a polite smile growing over her face. "Hello. I'm Annabeth Chase, Harley's sister."

Anyssa removes her AirPods from her ears. Her olive skin almost glows in the sunlight, complimenting her dark brown eyes. Her shock wears off soon enough and she grips Annabeth's hands in her own, flashing an evenly-toothed smile. "Hello. I'm Anyssa Valdenzia." Her gaze cuts to Harley for a moment, who's distracting himself by counting school buses and refusing to look at his friend.

But obviously he must've felt Anyssa's state because more embarrassment spreads over his face.

Annabeth has to bite back a laugh. _Poor boy. _"Anyways," she begins. She nudges her brother. "Harley tells me that you invited him over, right?"

The younger girl nods. "Yeah, I invited him over to do homework and possibly stay for dinner..." she trails off as her expression grows wary. "If... that's okay with you, of course."

The waitress resists a smile. "Yeah, it's fine. I had some other stuff to deal with anyways." She ignores Harley's questioning glance. "Just make sure he's home before 10:30. I'm sure he'll give you our address."

Anyssa nods, excitement dancing in her eyes. "Okay, I will. Thank you so much, Annabeth."

Annabeth shrugs. "Don't even mention it." She leans over to punch her brother in the arm. "I'll see you later, kid."

Harley gives her a half assed hug in retaliation. "Bye, Anna. See you later."

The 25 year old watches as Anyssa gathers her stuff and stands. "Let's go, Lee. I can see my brother's car from here!" Then, without waiting for a response, she grabs Harley's hand and pulls him over to a black BMW SUV.

Annabeth chuckles at that and makes her way back to Silena's car. As soon as she gets inside, her boss looks around with eyebrows reaching for the sky.

"Where's Little Chase?" She asks as she starts the car.

The waitress buckles her seatbelt before answering. "A friend invited him over for homework and dinner. I let him go... since I have errands to run and everything."

"Is that phone number considered one of them?"

Annabeth almost snorts. "Hardly."

Her boss waggles her eyebrows, then. "And is this friend of his a he or a she?"

The younger of the two bites back a smile and licks her lips. "A she. Her name is Anyssa Valdenzia."

"_Ethnic_," Silena waggles her eyebrows some more. "Double ooh."

Annabeth laughs a little. "Yeah, yeah."

. .

Once she's finally at home and in her apartment, Annabeth quickly strips down to her bra and underwear before slipping into a pair of boxers and a large shirt.

She fishes her phone from her purse and stares at the unknown number in her missed calls list. _Who was calling her?_

_Speak of the devil, and he shall appear._ No sooner had the thought been born when her phone vibrates again, the number lighting up the screen.

The 25 year old brushes her blonde hair away from her face and chews on her lip. On the third ring, she finally accepts the call and brings the phone to her ear. "Hello?" Her voice is cautious.

"Hello, is Annabeth Chase speaking?" An aged voice fills the line. It sounds male, deep and rich and commanding attention.

She raises an eyebrow. "Who's asking, please?"

"This is Poseidon Jackson, the current Chief Operating Officer of Atlantis Consolidated. I would like to speak to Annabeth Chase."

Annabeth feels her eyes widen. "This... this is she."

She hears him slightly huff from the other end of the line. "You've proven to be quite difficult to contact, Ms. Chase."

The 25 year old manages to keep her voice balanced. "I don't usually answer calls from unknown numbers, sir."

"Smart choice." He states plainly. "And what led you to pick up the phone this time?"

"Curiosity," is all that she can say. "What is your reason for calling me, Mr. Jackson?"

He clears his throat. "It's a matter that's better suited for discussing in person. Please come down to the office building."

Annabeth glances at the clock. It's 4:56. She decides to buy herself some time to reel. "I'm available at six today, or I could come tomorrow afternoon at 2."

"Today at six will be best." Poseidon confirms. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Chase."

She begins to say, "Thank you," but the line already goes dead. Annabeth swallows thickly and moves the phone away from her ear. "_Atlantis Consolidated,_" she mutters to herself.

The waitress tosses her phone on her bed and quickly makes the decision to take another shower and get dressed. She has barely an hour to make it over there.

_She should've suggested 7._

After quickly scrubbing off all the sweat and none of the fatigue that she'd accumulated throughout the day, Annabeth dries off and heads over to her closet to pick out an outfit.

It's one of her nicer ones: a navy colored pencil skirt with an ivory blouse. Despite the fact that her achilles' tendons scream at her for it, she slips into a pair of white heels. Annabeth does nothing to her hair, deciding that the headache she has is penance enough for having it in a bun for the majority of the day.

Then, with 20 minutes to spare, the 25 year old leaves her apartment and begins walking towards Atlantis Consolidated.

But even still, her thoughts fray. _What does he want from her?_

.

.

**Author's Note-**

**Okay, _please _don't send me death threats for butchering the characters ok? **

**Alot of them overlap and I know Nyssa isn't a child but it's the only way for any of this to work (without creating OCs, which is something I really don't feel like doing at all)**

**But anyways: thanks to all who've stuck around!**

**Leave a review or something or whatever**

_**love, April!**_


	6. Chapter Six: Featuring PIs

_**the biggest of thank you's to everyshadedsilver who beta read this for me.**_

* * *

Summary

_Annabeth Chase __is just a 25 year old waitress trying desperately to pay her next bill and take proper care of her 13 year old younger brother. Life for her is simple, and as much as she tries to convince her otherwise, she doesn't like it that way._

_Perseus "Percy" Jackson is a prominent 27 year old businessman who will do anything to inherit what was promised to him. But getting that inheritance has proved to be a lot more difficult than he'd anticipated._

_With the deadline looming over his horizon, how far is he willing to go to get what's his? How far is Annabeth willing to go to provide her brother the childhood he deserves?_

_An engagement contract seems a simple enough answer to their problems, but is it? __And as Annabeth is drawn further and further into Percy's world, how long until she uncovers the truth behind his family's wealth?_

* * *

**_Perseus_**

**_._**

_His regret is instantaneous._

A frown twists his father's already sour expression. "A waitress?" He pauses for a moment, his gaze defocusing as he becomes lost in thought. "Is she normal?"

Perseus ignores his flaring senses as he gives a shallow nod. "I'm assuming. She seems normal to me."

Poseidon shakes his wireless computer mouse and begins typing. "And what was the name of the diner you went to this morning?"

The 27 year old narrows his eyes. "Trio's Cafe..." He pauses, his breath halting in his throat as he waits for his father to elaborate.

The older Jackson does no such thing. Instead, his icy green eyes remain focused on the bright screen in front of him. Percy watches, nearly disinterested, as his father clicks a few times before speaking.

"And what was her name again?"

His response is empty. "Annabeth."

"Last name?"

"C initial. That's all I knew from her nametag." Within his next breath, Percy felt strange, as if he's giving out sensitive information, crossing a line. Before the 27 year old can stop himself, he calls out to his father. "Why are you asking this?"

The older man doesn't answer, instead he types away for a few more seconds before turning towards his phone and dialing a number. The air between the two Jacksons is tense as the rhythmic tone of the call waiting fills the space.

A gruff voice echoes into the silence. "Hello?"

Poseidon grunts and leans forward. "_Octavian_. I have a quick favor to call in."

Perseus recognizes the name instantly. Augustus Octavian is his family's P.I., a man who has come to Triton's aid more times than any of them would care to admit. The Jacksons owe more to Octavian than anyone else in the world... which is why Poseidon refuses to let him go.

"When do you not have a favor to call in?" Octavian chuckles over the line before sobering quickly. "I have things to do, so make this quick, Poseidon."

For reasons unknown, the older Jackson makes no move to silence him. He just presses on. "I need to find the phone number of a woman that my son encountered today."

The ill feeling from before, the one that told Percy that he's crossing a boundary he shouldn't be, returns. He settles in his seat, his stormy eyes falling to the polished mahogany wood that comprises his father's desk.

"Do you have any other information besides her name?" Octavian asks.

Poseidon's reply is swift. "She works at a place named Trio's Cafe. It's close to downtown. That's all we know." As his sentence continues, his patience clearly wanes, leaving his sea green eyes cold as ice. "I expect to have her phone number before sunset."

The private investigator snorts, clearly amused. "It'll take me no less than an hour, tops. Always the underestimating one, aren't we, _Signor_ _Jackson_?"

Percy watches his father mutter Greek expletives into the phone before, "Just get it done, Octavian." The older man then hangs up.

_And now... we wait._

. .

"It's already 5:45, Perseus. Where is your waitress?" His father paces the length of his office, his gait moving in prideful stalks.

The 27 year old holds off an eye roll as he tugs on his sleeves. "I don't control her actions, Father, and I probably never will. Nor is she 'my waitress.'" Somehow his response is blank. He applauds himself for that.

Poseidon doesn't answer and continues pacing. Percy notices that his father's eyes constantly cut to the pager that sits lifelessly on his desk.

He slinks in his seat enough to release the tension in his spine, muttering a prayer in hopes that his father won't notice his slight slouch.

The older Jackson continues to pace around his office, getting more and more aggravated with each passing step. Percy is able to tell because Poseidon's footfalls steadily grow heavier and more deliberate every time they came crashing against the carpet. Before long, his father is practically stomping around the room.

In the corner of his eye, he sees a quick flash of blue light. Perseus immediately turns towards the desk to confirm his suspicions before putting a voice to his alert. "Father, your pager!"

Poseidon stops pacing (ahem, _stomping_) and takes three extra-long strides to get back to his desk. The aged man then slams his finger down on the 'receive call' button and speaks out gruffly. "Hello?"

While he clears his throat, his secretary's voice wafts out of the small speaker. "Mr. Jackson?" Anna calls, her tone is slightly wary.

"Yes, Ms. Lance?" His father answers, eyes twitching with anticipation.

The corner of Percy's mouth flickers up into an amused smirk. Poseidon glances over at him with a flash, his green eyes piercing. The 27 year old's emotionless expression returns and his father resumes his focus on his pager, satisfied.

Anna speaks again. "The receptionist from the lobby tells me that there's a woman here to see you, but you don't have any meetings or appointments scheduled for this time slot. Should I send her away?"

The older man's blank face matches his voice when he replies. "What's her name?"

A brief pause before, "Annabeth Chase, sir." Anna answers, her voice audibly laced with unease.

Father's eyes light up for a fracture of a second by a fraction of a degree. "Send her up, I've been waiting for her."

Percy can almost hear the secretary nodding along in the same manner of a child. "Yes, sir." Then the line goes dead.

Silence looms over the office as the pair of men wait for Annabeth to come up. Perseus turns to face the floor-to-ceiling window, identical to the one in his office. The pale blue shades of the afternoon sky melts into the bleeding sunset, painting the arches in pinks, reds, and oranges. The city skyline darkens, seemingly brightening the clouds to a sterile white with a golden ichor outline rather than a simple ashen gray without one.

Then the door opens and both of their heads snap to Anna Lance. "Annabeth Chase, sir." She says.

And then in the waitress walks, the woman of the hour.

. .

Perseus is so stunned that he can hardly breathe.

He still isn't sure what he was expecting to see. A pair of jeans dressed up with a blazer? A tight bun? Perhaps a purse?

It isn't often that he finds himself in the company of the middle class, leaving him to be strictly speculative, no matter how judgmental it appears at first glance. The tendency to study others by their outside appearance has been instilled in the 27 year old since birth.

But nonetheless, the woman that stands by the door is near unrecognizable from the waitress who had fumbled over his coffee only hours prior. Her tight, royal blue skirt accentuates the gentle curve of her shapely legs, and the white blouse that's tucked into the darkened navy fabric stands out against her olive skin and brings out her ever silver eyes.

And again, Perseus finds himself unable to tear his gaze away from the thick golden waves of what looks to be tangible sunshine that cascades down the side of her elegant neck. The argentum rings that adorn the hair only bring attention to its ethereal beauty.

_Well... never let it be said that she's an ugly woman._

Poseidon hums in thin approval beneath his breath. Perseus, still struggling to breathe correctly, glances over to see his father's eyes sweep up the woman's appearance. His own eyes widen slightly as Annabeth cuts Percy a brief glance and releases a tiny smirk of her own.

_Shit._

All parties are silent as they stare at each other, no one really knowing what to say. The uneasy tension that lingers in the air is palpable and thick.

Finally, his father clears his throat and glances at the silver Armani wrist watch that is identical to his own. "Thank you for not arriving late, Ms. Chase."

Annabeth nods stiffly and remains by the door.

Poseidon gestures towards the plush and currently empty armchair beside Percy's. His face and words are blank when he offers, "Please, sit down. We have much to discuss."

"Yes, sir." Annabeth agrees. She walks over to the offered chair, her gait steady and confident while doing so.

Silence resumes its role of filling the space as she sits down. Annabeth crosses her ankles and folds her hand in her lap before lifting her gaze to stare at the Roman numeral clock that's mounted on the wall behind Poseidon's desk. After several pressing moments, she clears her throat. "So, this offer you spoke to me about? May I ask what it is?"

Perseus's father slightly scoots in closer to his desk while folding his own hands on the surface of the tabletop. He sets his lips into a tight line. "Ms. Chase, before I answer your question, would you answer mine?"

As usual, his voice leaves little up for discussion. The young woman is forced to oblige. She swallows and nods. "Well... ask away, sir."

The elder Jackson doesn't miss a beat. "How do you feel about marriage?" His face remains grim as he studies her face.

Percy can see her eyebrows itching to lift in reaction. But to her credit, Annabeth manages to keep her voice evenly balanced when she answers. "It doesn't seem to be an option in the cards for me at the moment." When Poseidon doesn't press further, she hurries on to fill the silence. Annabeth pauses for a split moment before, "Personally, I don't mind it. If I'm intended to get married one day, then I believe that will happen. But... getting married is far from the top of my priorities right now. I'm content as I am."

Her words ring with the pure relief of honesty, but Perseus still wonders if she's trying to convince herself or his father.

He watches as the cold green eyes of the man in question softens for a fraction of a millisecond. Then, his stone blank stare resumes and he nods. "What about arranged marriages? What are your thoughts on those?" Poseidon ventures.

Perseus registers the gears turning in Annabeth's head as she attempts to assess the situation; as she tries to figure out why his father is asking such specific questions.

She sucks in a breath and blows it out softly through her pillowy, slightly pursed lips. Annabeth's head cocks to the side a little bit before she answers. "My thoughts on arranged marriages? That's a difficult one, seeing how I've never really thought about it. But I guess it depends on the circumstance?" As she voices her thoughts, her metallic eyes light with a certain fire that Percy can't place.

All he knows is that he's _enamored_.

Annabeth continues on, her gaze catching onto Poseidon's. "Do you mean historic European arranged marriages where the woman has no say in whom she is wed to and has no way out? Or are you referring to modern Middle Eastern arranged marriages where the people involved typically have a long engagement and are allowed to back out at any time prior to the wedding?"

The silence that hangs in the hair afterward forces Perseus to take in a deep breath to swallow down his rising chuckle. Poseidon, who recognizes the sound, cuts him a cold glance before turning back to Annabeth.

Said woman is fidgeting slightly in her seat, clearly embarrassed. "Sorry," she murmurs.

His father leans back as he stares at her, as if he's seeing the waitress in a new light. "Don't be. An educated woman is a useful woman."

A thoughtful look passes over her face at that, as if she isn't sure how to respond.

"But to answer your question, Ms. Chase," Poseidon resumes his former position, leaning forward. His mossy eyes are stagnant and lifeless- like a shark's. "I was thinking of one that seems to be a mix of the two examples that you presented. A marriage with a contract, that cannot be made void until both parties fulfill the contents of the document. What are your thoughts on that?"

Annabeth swallows thickly under his intense gaze. Her grey irises flicker towards Percy's swirling green eyes for a split moment before she fiddles with her hands. "I guess it isn't a problem? As long as both parties are consenting and the contract isn't in the favor of one over the other."

Amusement flashes in his father's eyes before disappearing. A pit in the young businessman's stomach swells, filled with slight amusement and an emotion that he can't place.

_If only she knew what she was here for._

"So is that all, sir?" Annabeth's question is earnest as she sits up straighter. It's clear that she wants to leave as soon as possible.

Poseidon shakes his head. "I have one more question for you, Ms. Chase."

Annabeth eases back against the backrest once more and purses her lips into a tight line. "Ask away, sir." This time, her tone is flat.

"What would you do if you were to be paid to marry someone?" His father asks, honesty lacing the undertones of his words.

Percy feels his eyebrows crinkle. What is the old man insinuating? Is he going to make a contract and have Annabeth marry him (or at least get engaged) for a certain amount a cash? His thoughts run rampant.

_Is that even legal?_

But the 27 year old isn't sure why he even bothered to wonder about the legality of the entire situation. _The Jacksons have no qualms for breaking the law._ Hell, Triton has made a whole career of crime.

Annabeth's eyes widen and she clenches her fists so tightly that Perseus half expects her hands to break. The young woman's palms flush a bright shade of red as her fingernails dig into them.

_Guess she's finally figured out why she was called here._

The gruffness in his father's voice hints at his growing impatience. "I'm waiting, Ms. Chase."

She clears her throat and nods, "Sorry. Um... If I were to be paid to marry someone," Annabeth's gaze slides over to Perseus for several tortuous moments before snapping back to his father. "It would depend on the person, the amount of money, and how long we would have to be married. And a contract is a must for me. I would need a document that I can read thoroughly and sign to know the type of agreement between us."

Poseidon nods, clearly thinking over her answer. Then, without warning, he stands with his hand outstretched. Annabeth hurries to get up, pushing off of the chair. Percy's father grasps her hand and purses his lips into a thin, barely noticeable line. "Well, I'm proud to say that you got the job, Ms. Chase. Thank you for your time."

Annabeth's jaw drops while Perseus clenches his own shut. His father had _actually_ listened to him. He was to marry this woman he had just met.

_This is his own fault._

"S-sir?" The young woman's voice comes out startled and unsure.

Poseidon gestures to Percy, silently ordering his son to stand up in the process, and turns back to Annabeth. "I'm off to produce that contract."

Her jaw drops even further and her eyes follow the older man the door. Just before his father grips the knob, he turns and nods in their direction. "In the meantime, I'll let you and your husband-to-be get acquainted."

Then he grasps the doorknob and disappears behind the oak door.

.

.

**Author's Note-**

**I don't think I have much to say... other than the usual:**

**Leave a review or something or the other and tell me what you think!**

**Thanks for sticking around!**

**(Again, update schedule = whenever I feel like it)**

_**love, April!**_


	7. Chapter Seven: Featuring Machines

_**the biggest of thank you's to everyshadedsilver who beta read this for me.**_

* * *

Summary

_Annabeth Chase __is just a 25 year old waitress trying desperately to pay her next bill and take proper care of her 13 year old younger brother. Life for her is simple, and as much as she tries to convince her otherwise, she doesn't like it that way._

_Perseus "Percy" Jackson is a prominent 27 year old businessman who will do anything to inherit what was promised to him. But getting that inheritance has proved to be a lot more difficult than he'd anticipated._

_With the deadline looming over his horizon, how far is he willing to go to get what's his? How far is Annabeth willing to go to provide her brother the childhood he deserves?_

_An engagement contract seems a simple enough answer to their problems, but is it? __And as Annabeth is drawn further and further into Percy's world, how long until she uncovers the truth behind his family's wealth?_

* * *

**_Annabeth_**

**_._**

Annabeth finds herself reeling as she desperately attempts to process what she had just heard.

She's being offered to _marry_ a man she had barely met a few hours ago.

A man who's made her nervous for reasons unknown on multiple accounts.

A man whose name she does not know.

A man who, so far, puts her at unease.

_Think of the money,_ she assures herself. _Harley needs it. You might as well agree to the contract._

"If you could please stop staring at the door with your mouth open, Ms. Chase. I'd like to get this show on the road and I would very much prefer if you weren't catching flies." The deep timbre of the man's voice shatters her thoughts, disorganizing her train of thought.

Annabeth turns to see that the man had stood. Now that they are side by side, she registers just how tall he is, or rather, _just how short she is._ Poseidon Jackson's (assumed) son towers over her, his broad shoulders measuring up to the crown of her head. He straightens the expensive-looking silver watch on his wrist and looks down at her, his tempestuous sea-green eyes piercing her soul.

The waitress decides to ignore his rudeness. She tugs on the end of one of her waves and cranes her neck to look up at him, cocking her head slightly to the side. "What are you going on about?"

Rather than answer her question, he holds out his hand. Annabeth's gaze falls to it. "My name is Perseus Jackson," he says. His words are empty and cold, and the way that his voice vibrates in his chest reminds her of the gentle hum of a machine.

_He's like machinery… cold, rumbling, emotionless. Driven by duty and nothing else._

Annabeth grasps his hand as firm as she can, refusing to acknowledge the fact that her palm is nearly completely swallowed by his own. She's startled at the heat that envelops her hand, expecting his skin to be as cold as his voice.

The 25-year-old woman then withdraws and narrows her eyes at him. "Are you going to answer my question, Perseus?"

He chuckles emptily, the vibration of the sound rumbling in his chest. Annabeth finds herself swallowing thickly as he continues. "Do you want to know the reason why you're to be engaged to me, Ms. Chase?" His lips flicker up into a dangerous smirk before passiveness overtakes his expression.

"I'd rather be called Annabeth." Her response is instant. Then, as an afterthought, "And yes, I would like to know."

"Well then, _Annabeth_," He corrects himself. His Italian accent rears its head as the name rolls off his tongue, and she forces herself to tear her gaze away from his intense stare. When the businessman continues speaking, she can feel his heated attention rolling over her body. If her skin were any lighter, her face would be red. "My grandfather- the current owner of Atlantis Consolidated- left me this company and a rather large fortune in his will. But in order for me to actually obtain that money, I have to married- or at least engaged."

Her arms tighten into a fold across her chest. Annabeth turns back to him, meeting his eyes head-on. "So why do you need _me_? What's in this for _me_?" Her tone borders on desperation and she forces herself to reel it in a little. "What purpose do you and your father have for choosing a random middle-class waitress?" She pauses for a second before mulling it over. "Why don't you just get engaged to some model or whatever and leave _me_ out of it?"

Perseus runs a hand through his hair in slight exasperation, not that it makes it look any worse. Annabeth swears that the Italian-speaking man before her could be dressed in absolute _shit_ and still look like a god.

Or at least a celebrity.

"Because you were the only option, Annabeth." He insists.

That triggers an eyebrow raise. The 25-year-old feels her eyes narrow. "Really? The only option? I'm sure that _some_ woman would be-"

Perseus cuts her sentence in two, his voice thundering out of his chest with an air of power yet lacking high volume. His words are tense. "_Yes_, you were the only option, Ms. Chase. Believe me on that one."

"My name's Annabeth." She takes a step backward, both of her eyebrows lifting this time. "And _believe you_? I don't _know you_." She deadpans.

His deep green eyes brighten to an iron-gray as he advances slightly. Annabeth swallows again when an eyebrow cocks upward and a corner of his lips tugs slightly into a cold smile. _"You will."_

The way that he states it... as if it is a _promise_… her chest can only heave as she takes another step backward.

Perseus notices the movement and chuckles again, but this time the sound of amusement is clearly there and it's _dark_. He licks his lips and gestures to the door. "Let me escort you home, Annabeth. Please."

If the look in his eyes hadn't been there, she might have snorted. But it is there, and so she doesn't. Instead, Annabeth thinks of her tiny apartment on the other side of town, the part that he would probably refer to as a third world country. Despite herself, shame flutters in her stomach. "I'm capable of getting home on my own, thank you very much."

Annabeth then turns to leave but halts her movements when she hears him crossing over to her. Perseus stops just a few inches away, close enough that she can feel _slivers_ of the heat that emanates from his body in waves.

She glances at him through the corner of her eye, hating the fact that he's making her feel like cornered prey. Hating it _especially_ since she has all the room in the world to walk out the door and hurry home.

But even so, Annabeth stills and waits.

_Why?_

She isn't sure.

He stares back down at her, the greyness in his irises gone, leaving nothing but a pair of sea-green eyes that elicit goosebumps to line her skin. When Perseus reaches forward, his large hand skimming her forearm before dropping to his side, she fights back a flinch. He sighs. "You don't understand, Annabeth._ I have to escort you home._" He pauses, taking several steps back to give her space before continuing. "After all, we have to appear to be dating first before we get 'engaged.' We can't just come out of nowhere and say, 'We're getting married!' That would do nothing for my cause, and it would appear to be just a ploy to get the money and the company."

That triggers her pivot to face him fully. "But isn't that exactly what this is-" She tries to point out.

Perseus cuts her off again. "That's not the point, Chase. The thing is that we have to look believable. Am I understood?" His warning reminds her too much of her old elementary principal.

Annabeth nods, simply playing along because she has no more energy to argue despite the fact that none of this is remotely legal. But she needs the money… Harley needs the money.

The man beside her mirrors her actions, nodding, before releasing a smile. His evenly-lined teeth are pearly, which is no surprise to her, but the lack of warmth behind the gesture leaves her put off. "Good, now come on," He glances at the clock. "Knowing my father, the paparazzi he's ordered should be arriving outside the building in any minute." Then his cold gaze falls back to her and Annabeth suddenly feels exposed. "Where do you live?"

_That's not creepy at all..._

Shame and embarrassment crawl up the heat of her skin at the mentioning of her home. "Spotswood Oaks. It's an apartment neighborhood on the other side of-"

Other than cutting her off (_again_), Perseus makes no reaction. "I'm aware of where it is." He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, his eyes fluttering shut. The tension in her chest lessens. "I guess it would be best for you to come to my house. We could get acquainted there," he pauses to open his eyes and the tension returns. His next words are both chilling and heating. "Possibly spend the night."

Different connotations of the phrase scatter across the forefront of Annabeth's mind, but they are all drowned out by her common sense. She gapes at him with incredulity lacing her words. "_Spend the night?_ Yeah, sorry, _sir_, but I have a little brother to look after. He isn't capable of making his own dinner."

_And there's no food at home_, she doesn't say.

"Where is he at the moment?"

"He's at a friend's house: Anyssa Valdenzia."

Perseus's jaw clenches for a moment, his eyes tightening. "_Valdenzia_, you said?" If possible, his expression grows colder by the second.

Annabeth frowns, puzzled at his reaction. "Yes, Valdenzia…" She trails off before pressing on. "Why?"

All emotion drops from his face and he shakes his head. "It doesn't matter." Then, he steps forward and holds her elbow between his thumb and forefinger. Perseus begins pulling her towards the door. "Let's go."

. .

The elevator ride is silent.

All the way down the 37 floors of Atlantis Consolidated, Perseus and her stand mutely side by side. But whether the silence is awkward or not, she isn't able to decipher.

When the 2nd floor dings, she feels the heat of Perseus's hand coming to rest at the small of her back. Annabeth sucks in a breath sharply from the tingle of his touch and from the warmth of his body, fighting the urge to flinch away.

_She shouldn't even be feeling a damn tingle._

1st floor.

The elevator doors roll open, revealing the bustling lobby she had just hurried through barely half an hour beforehand.

Businessmen and women hurry to different elevators and hassle between desks- shuffling papers, filing bills, and making business calls with other cities all across the world.

Perseus guides her out of the elevator and they start towards the doors. Many employees greet Perseus as they pass them. Annabeth also catches a handful of stares (and glares) sent her way that she was most likely not meant to see.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Jackson."

"Good evening, Mr. Jackson."

"Hello, Mr. Jackson."

"Have a nice day, Mr. Jackson."

Annabeth leans up a bit to whisper into Perseus's ear. "Doesn't that get... _annoying?_"

The pair of them stop by the receptionist's desk.

The businessman beside her chuckles a little beneath his breath before answering in the same hushed tone. "Very."

She finds herself cracking a smile before shaking her head a little. _Ridiculous_.

Perseus continues, "It appears that you're a better actress than I originally thought, Annabeth."

The 25-year-old opens her mouth to respond with a calm retort, but freezes immediately when he presses a barely noticeable kiss to the skin below her ear.

_Think of the money, think of the money_… Annabeth forces herself to relax despite the fact that every bit of common sense within her tells her that this is wrong. _This is moving too fast._

Giving no truth to the haphazardous thoughts that plague her, the waitress decides to play the bashful card. A smile of that caliber stretches over her lips as Perseus pulls away. Their eyes meet. "Thank you."

Again, his eyes remain cold when he smiles. "Of course."

"Mr. Jackson?" A feminine voice calls out.

They both turn to find the receptionist staring at pair of them. In truth, her slight glare is directed at Annabeth, but the woman's head is angled towards Perseus.

The Italian-speaking man releases his hand from the small of Annabeth's back, leaving the skin there to feel cold and exposed. The waitress shifts a bit and lets her smile drop. Perseus then digs his hands into his pocket to fish out a key. "Ah, yes, sorry," he clears his throat, his tone lacking any sense of apology. "When my father comes back, would you be so kind as to give this to him, Miss Lawton? Thank you."

She smiles with sweetness, oblivious to the lack of emotion in the dark, yet bright green eyes that stare her down. "Of course, Mr. Jackson. Have a nice day."

He throws a slightly exasperated glance over his shoulder, nearly causing Annabeth to snort unattractively with laughter. Instead, she bites back a smile and covers her lips with her hand. Lawton's glare strengthens tenfold.

Perseus turns back to her. "Thank you, Ms. Lawton. You too."

Without missing a beat, the tall man then slides his arm around Annabeth's waist and tugs their bodies close to one another. Faking reflex, she does the same.

_Think of the money, think of the money…_

They head out the door. When they reach outside, Annabeth finds that she's nearly blinded by the rapid flashes and blinks of lights all heralding the presence of the paparazzi.

_Already?_

"Mr. Jackson! Who is that fine lady?"

"Are you two dating?"

"Are you two secretly married?" _(Honestly?)_

"Perseus, will you be inheriting Atlantis Consolidated from your grandfather?"

Annabeth loosely flinches, her skin flushing with heat, as Perseus's grip on her waistline tightens. He tries to push his way through the throngs of reporters with news cameras and make his way to the car. When he realizes the fault in that, the Italian-speaking man lets go of her waist entirely before enclosing his warm palm over her cold hands, catching her fingers in a death grip.

The waitress notices the blond man from this morning standing by the doors of a shiny, _expensive_-looking car, fending off paparazzi. He's halfway into threatening a paparazzo to back off before he makes her eat her Nikon when he catches sight of Annabeth and Perseus. The Englishman then pries the door open and the businessman nearly dives inside, sending the young woman tumbling after him.

"Shut the door, shut the door," Perseus's words come out heated and intense as he gestures towards Annabeth, his eyes flickering to the flashes of cameras and shouted questions that are aimed at them.

Annabeth reaches over and slams the door shut. Without missing a beat, the man from before then revs the engine and peels down the street. The sound of a deep breath coming from her left pulls her gaze to look at the businessman beside her. She sees that Perseus is breathing heavily, and his previously impeccable suit is slightly wrinkled.

He takes in another weighted breath and loosens his tie, sighing in relief as he stretches out over the comfortable seats.

The waitress hums in satisfaction as she runs a hand over the soft, smooth leather. She doesn't think she'll ever be satisfied with taking public transportation ever again. The car might as well as have been heaven transformed into an automobile. She doesn't feel a single bump on the road- the tires smooth over the asphalt like it's cream.

"Well, that was certainly exciting," Annabeth mutters.

Perseus groans in response, the tantalizing depth of his voice like music to her ears. "I think my father ordered a tad too many. I was only expecting a handful, maybe two or five."

Her response is sarcastic. "Just a tad."

The man beside her doesn't answer as the driver rolls up the glass divider. A bit uncomfortable with the silence, Annabeth decides to fill it. "So, where are we going?" She asks.

Perseus looks over at her, his gaze intense and slightly detached. Annoyance flickers into his green irises before the emotion disappears altogether. "Did I not make myself clear in the office building? We're headed to my house since I don't know if your neighborhood is completely safe."

She tears her eyes away from his face while rolling them, annoyance rising in her chest. "I've been living there for the last 5 years and I've never been subject to criminal activity… and neither has anyone that I know. Spotswood Oaks is perfectly safe." Through her peripheral vision, the young woman sees his eyebrows lift. She blushes before pressing on. "_Ish_."

Perseus waves that away. "That doesn't guarantee anything. I take safety very seriously, Ms. Chase. So in the meantime, you'll have to be staying somewhere else."

Annabeth feels her jaw drop as she turns back to the businessman beside her. _"Excuse me?"_ The incredulity that laces her words burns like fire. "You have no right to tell me where I live." Her eyes narrow as the shock quickly turns to anger. _"No right."_

The man beside her looks up from his phone with an empty expression, as if signaling that the conversation is over.

_Ha._

When she continues to stare him down, Perseus finally answers. "Is that so?" He frowns a little.

_The audacity!_

Annabeth sucks in a breath through her nostrils, forcing her emotions into check. "You can't be serious. I," she pauses to wave frantically at the space between them. "_Just fucking met you._ This 'engagement' that isn't even _agreed upon yet_ is _fake_. And even if all of that were untrue," Annabeth takes in another deep breath when she feels her anger surge. "You are not the boss of me, nor will you ever be the boss of me. You have no right to tell me anything about my own life."

Perseus cocks his head to the side, taking her words into consideration. Then, almost as if he's confused, the Italian breathes out, "But wouldn't you prefer an actual house?"

Her thoughts joined his side. _A better living space. A safer home for Harley._

That causes her to falter. "Well…" She realizes that he's right. "Yes, but-"

He cuts her off for the umpteenth time, angling his pale eyes towards his phone again. "Then it's settled. You can spend the night and I'll begin looking for homes tomorrow."

Confusion rises in her chest. "Wait, what?" _Looking for homes?_ "What are you talking about?"

The businessman doesn't bother to glance in her direction this time. "You can't seriously expect to continue living in Spotswood Oaks for as long as we're involved in any capacity. The press would have a field day."

And before the 25-year-old woman can form a proper response, Perseus begins to talk on the phone, yammering in a language that sounds like German. She scowls and crosses her arms over her chest, her thoughts jogging to the rhythm of chaos.

_Think of Harley,_ she tells herself. _He needs this more than you do._

And the notion is a fact in and of itself. Despite that her sudden involvement with Perseus isn't binding in the slightest, she still can't afford to back out. If Poseidon Jackson was telling the truth, then she'll be getting paid to marry the man beside her.

Or, in his own words, paid to get engaged.

Disregarding her own feelings, Annabeth knows that this opportunity is one that cannot be passed up. Her younger brother's chances of success are at stake.

She's vowed before to put Harley first, and she's keeping said promise by remaining at Perseus's side…

_No matter how off-putting the cold-eyed businessman may be._

. .

Annabeth doesn't remember falling asleep, but it obviously happened. When she opens her eyes, she sees Perseus's blurred form standing above her in front of the opened car door. The waitress lifts her head to further look at him, rubbing the fatigue from her eyelids. "Where am I?" Her words are slurred with a half-yawn, half-murmur.

His expression is devoid of emotion. "You're at my house, Ms. Chase. And I would appreciate it if you did not spend the little time we have to get to know each other sleeping in my car."

That jars her enough to sit up and rub more sleepiness from her eyes. "My name is Annabeth," she mumbles. Her clothes are rumpled and her feet throb with soreness from being stuffed into her (admittedly beautiful) heels for such a long time.

Without meaning to, a few questions slip through her lips. "Can I at least change my clothes? And possibly take a shower? I feel… disgusting."

Perseus's face remains blank as he nods. "Of course. My housekeeper will provide you with a spare set of clothing and a toothbrush." He then offers his hand towards her.

_So the machine can be a gentleman. How reassuring._

Annabeth wrinkles her nose when she takes his hand and exits the car. "Why would I need a toothbrush?"

"We agreed that you would be staying the night, correct?" Perseus's hand drops back to his side, his response flat.

She frowns. "No, _you_ agreed to it. I never said a word." Annabeth has to crane her neck to glare up at him, folding her arms over her chest.

A flicker of amusement passes over his lips when the Italian's eyes narrow for a split moment. "And yet… you didn't make any further objection. Instead," his gaze travels down her body before returning its focus to her face. "You fell asleep."

Annabeth opens her mouth to protest but is annoyed to find that she can't combat his words. _He's right._

And besides, she _had_ agreed to spend the night. She just never told him audibly. But even so, the waitress still manages to say, "I can't leave my brother home alone. And I'm not even sure that he has his key."

Perseus leans over her, bringing his body close, and she tenses immediately. His hands reach past her waistline and Annabeth's eyes flutter shut.

_What is he going to do?_

Her joints are locked and aligned tightly as she awaits her demise. But it never comes. Instead, the sound of the car door slamming reaches her eardrums and the 25-year-old is doused with both understanding and embarrassment.

When Annabeth's eyes open, she sees Perseus staring down at her with a sort of passive expression. But there's something else lingering in his gaze that she can't place, and the sight of it causes goosebumps to line her skin.

Then he nods. "You said he was staying at a Valdenzia house?"

She rubs her elbow, a bit uncomfortable. "He just went over to hang out. I can't ask them to have him spend the night so last-minute, and I don't have their numbers either."

Perseus checks his watch before settling his sea-green eyes on her. His words drip with assurity. "I know the Valdenzias. They'll let him stay. Now come on, we're wasting time." Without another word, the businessman spins on his heel and begins walking towards the house.

Speechless, Annabeth can do nothing but stare at his rapidly retreating backside. How was he so sure that Harley would be able to spend the night?

But then her gaze lifts to the mansion that lays before her, and she realizes just how much money Perseus Jackson is made of.

And it's a _lot_.

The Italian stops walking and glances over his shoulder, a lightly sour expression glazing over his face. Annabeth studies him closer, noticing just how disheveled he looks. And impatient.

The dim light of the setting sun catches onto his golden skin as he advances towards her slowly. Once again, the little slivers of emotion that he's showed begins to wane as he draws nearer and nearer. Perseus stops right in front of her, his eyes shining gray, and cocks his head to the side.

Annabeth inhales softly and holds his gaze.

"Shall we go, Annabeth?" His tone is patient and calm, the words rumbling in his chest. But as Perseus waits for her answer, his eyes are still so… _cold_.

So all the waitress can do is nod. Nod and offer the tiniest of smiles. "We shall."

. .

Annabeth steps out of the shower and grips her towel tightly against her freshly-washed skin. The bathroom mirror is foggy with steam, but she doesn't mind.

She closes her hand around the cool doorknob and pads out of the bathroom and into the guest room. Perseus had already introduced her to the majority of the house staff. When he claimed her as his girlfriend, it had taken everything within Annabeth to keep from clenching her jaw.

The waitress's gaze falls to her bed, and she sees that one out of Perseus's legion of housekeepers, Aleane, has set out a few comfortable clothes for her, which Annabeth greatly appreciates. It's just a pair of black leggings and a college sweatshirt, but it's better than nothing. A pair of slippers also sit by the foot of the massive canopy bed.

Annabeth quickly dries off and pulls on the clothing before leaving the room. She can't help but be in awe as she descends the stairs and studies the grandeur of the enormous house once more.

It's all beautiful… but there's something detached about it all that she dislikes. The entire place seems to be entirely for show, without an ounce of comfort that a home should have. Annabeth feels that she's in a museum, prohibited from getting comfortable or touching anything.

But… she supposes that's for the best. No need to get attached to a house when faking an engagement with its owner, right?

As she shuffles into one of the sitting rooms in search of Perseus, she wonders if he lives here alone. The house seems so… big and empty.

The 25-year-old sees another one of his housekeepers dusting a vase. She slows her movements and takes a tentative step forward. "Excuse me?"

The older woman turns, revealing a pair of gray-green eyes and salt-pepper jet black hair. She smiles softly.

Annabeth glances down at her name tag: Raisa.

_What a pretty name._

"Yes, how can I help you?" Raisa answers. Her words are heavily accented and a bit stilted with a thick Russian inflection.

"Um, I'm looking for Perseus? Is he around here?" She asks again.

Raisa smiles with kindness and nods. "Yes, yes, Mr. Jackson is in his study… no, his bedroom right now. But no one allowed in there. Very private."

Annabeth returns the grin, although hers is a bit shallower. "Thank you, Raisa."

The housekeeper's smile widens before she bows her head and turns back to dusting. "No… problem, Miss Chase."

That elicits the waitress's instant response. "Just call me Annabeth," she insists.

Raisa gives her a smile, one that says that she won't be calling her by her first name any time soon. But instead of being annoyed at that, Annabeth finds herself returning the grin. She respects the housekeeper in front of her, and she can tell that she likes her already.

"I'm sorry if the guest room is not to your liking," Raisa suddenly frowns. Her eyes cast upwards in the direction of the staircase and the second floor. "Mr. Jackson did not tell us you coming today."

Annabeth feels her cheeks warm before she attempts to assuage the frown on the older woman's face. "No, no, no, it's fine, really," she hurries. Raisa glances at her, clearly unconvinced, so Annabeth continues. "I didn't know I was coming over until today either. Really it's fine."

The housekeeper hums, lowering her head. "You need clothes."

Suddenly self-conscious, the 25-year-old looks down at her attire. She fiddles with the ends of her blonde hair before sinking her teeth into her lower lip. "My clothes…? What do you mean?"

"Cannot wear Miss Bianca's clothes forever," the woman vaguely explains.

A thin surge of anger flares up within Annabeth. _Who the hell is Bianca?_ She bites her lip harder and angles her body away from Raisa so the woman won't think the anger is directed at her.

Perseus has told Annabeth that she was his so-called "only option." But if the man has other women available, _including the one whose clothes she was wearing_, he doesn't need her. _At all._

_This is a waste of my time,_ she thinks to herself.

Clearing her throat, Annabeth turns back to the housekeeper, who had resumed her task of dusting. "You said that Perseus is in his room? Can you show me where that is?"

Raisa lifts an eyebrow a little. "No one allowed in-"

The lie rolls off of Annabeth's tongue. She fakes an easy shrug. "Perseus told me that I'm his exception."

The housekeeper believes her, bowing her head again with a soft smile. "Of course, Miss Chase." However, as her neck angled downwards Annabeth recognized the glint in the woman's eyes all too well. _Raisa knows she's bluffing._

The older woman sets down the feather duster and motions silently for Annabeth to follow her up the stairs. The two of them pass by the guest room that Annabeth's staying in and continue down the hall, nearing the end. Then, at the last entrance to a room beset with large, double doors, Raisa stops.

"This is his room." Her words are soothing, and then she goes back downstairs.

"Thank you…" Annabeth mumbles over her shoulder as she stares at the darkened wood doors in front of her. They gleam beneath the light of the chandelier that illuminates the hallways.

She lifts a fist to knock but falters as she thinks over her choices._ I can't just knock on his door and expect him to answer_, she realizes. _He seems like the type to enjoy his privacy… like me._

But then her anger resurfaces as she recalls the housekeeper's words.

No, she reminds herself._ Perseus said that I was his only option, but I'm wearing another woman's clothes right now. If he lied to me, I deserve to know the truth. I deserve to get to the bottom of this._

She lifts her fist to knock on the door, prepared to release all her frustration through her knuckles against the wood. But before her skin can every brush against it, the door swings open.

Annabeth's breath catches in her throat and she stumbles back, her gaze zeroing in on the bare chest in front of her. The young waitress cranes her neck, lifting her grey eyes to meet with the stormy green ones that smolder above.

_He's smirking._

The majority of her anger drains away as she registers the fact that Perseus is chest naked. And the pair of gray sweatpants that he's wearing hang dangerously low on his hips, revealing a chiseled v-line decorated with wisps of black ink that disappear into the hem of his clothing_._

_Oh dear gods…_

Annabeth swallows thickly and licks her lips, her gaze flickering back to his face. Perseus's smirk doesn't fade at all as he leans against the doorway, his prominent biceps rippling. The heir sinks a hand into his midnight black hair and cocks his head a little to the side.

"Is there something you want, _mia bella?_"

.

.

**Author's Note-**

**THANKS FOR STICKING AROUND FOR THIS LONGGGGG**

**Leave a review :)**

_**love, April!**_


	8. Chapter Eight: Featuring Lightweights

_**the biggest of thank you's to everyshadedsilver who beta read this for me.**_

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Summary

_Annabeth Chase __is just a 25 year old waitress trying desperately to pay her next bill and take proper care of her 13 year old younger brother. Life for her is simple, and as much as she tries to convince her otherwise, she doesn't like it that way._

_Perseus "Percy" Jackson is a prominent 27 year old businessman who will do anything to inherit what was promised to him. But getting that inheritance has proved to be a lot more difficult than he'd anticipated._

_With the deadline looming over his horizon, how far is he willing to go to get what's his? How far is Annabeth willing to go to provide her brother the childhood he deserves?_

_An engagement contract seems a simple enough answer to their problems, but is it? __And as Annabeth is drawn further and further into Percy's world, how long until she uncovers the truth behind his family's wealth?_

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**Warning: This chapter contains... mild sexual tension (emphasis on mild)**

**_Perseus_**

**_._**

Percy has to fight his smirk from growing as he stares her down. Amusement flutters in his chest as he takes in her large, grey eyes and blonde hair. Annabeth swallows, eliciting his repeated question. "Well? I'm waiting for an answer, _Annabeth_."

The waitress in front of him scowls a little and looks past his poised arms to peer into his bedroom. Percy's attention lowers to the curve of her legs for a split moment before refocusing on her face.

Annabeth meets his gaze. "Are you busy right now?"

He hums a little to himself, pushing off of the doorway. "Define busy, Ms. Chase."

"I need to talk to you, Perseus."

Deciding that he's let his emotions show for long enough, Percy allows all smugness to drain from his face as he turns around. "I'm all ears." He heads back into his bedroom, assuming that Annabeth will follow.

She does.

The door closes and he pulls a t shirt from his dresser, shrugging it on. When the Greek resurfaces, he almost chuckles at the fact that she's staring with intensity at his torso. Almost.

Percy's eyebrow lifts and he sits down on the edge of his bed. "You said you wanted to talk, Annabeth." He can't keep the slight accusatory tone from filtering over his words, but it isn't his fault, he supposes. She was the one to interrupt his relaxation, after all.

She grunts a little, her eyes darkening as if she's finally remembering her reason for appearing at his door. "I know." They stare at each other for a moment, until Annabeth finally breaks the silence. Her arms cross over her chest and her eyes narrow. "Who the _hell_ is Bianca?"

Percy freezes, tinges of annoyance rippling at the seams on his heart strings. "None of your business, Ms. Chase." He _really_ dislikes the way she says his younger sister's name, as if it's poison.

Annabeth raises an eyebrow. "I'm not gonna remind you what my name is again. You know what it is. Don't be rude." Her ankle crosses in front of the other and he has to force his gaze away from the sight of her svelte legs. "And besides," she continues, her tone edging on annoyance as well. "You said that I was your only option."

Percy's chuckle bounces out of his chest before he can stop it. After a few moments indulging himself (much to her obvious chagrin), he leans forward, balancing his elbows against his knees. "Is that all?" He cocks his head a little before sizing her up, his tone growing serious. "What are you... _jealous_?"

Her frown takes a murderous turn. "Don't be ridiculous." And then she stalks forward, her silver eyes ensnaring him. He finds that it's getting more and more difficult to keep his gaze from wandering down her lithe figure. "But I'm not fond of liars, Mr. Jackson. And if I find out that _you lied to me-_"

He takes that as his cue to stand. Perseus pushes off of his bed and stretches to his full height, a tiny smirk pulling over his lips before dropping completely. "You'll what?" His tone is dark.

Annabeth's eyes widen for a fracture of a moment as she takes a tiny step back. But he sees it anyways.

Percy hums and narrows his eyes, the timbre of the vibration rumbling in his chest. His words are balanced and empty when he speaks, making sure that she can't see just how much her proximity is affecting him. "Are you _threatening_ me, Ms. Chase? Is that what I'm hearing?"

Her bravado returns just as quickly as it had disappeared. The small woman in front of him growls and takes another step forward, pressing a bare fingernail into his pecs. The Greek looks on in interest as her pillowy lips tuck further into a frown and her almond-shaped grey eyes smolder.

"Don't take me for a fool, Mr. Jackson. If it turns out that you have other women available while I'm here, wasting my time and practically _abandoning_ my brother..." She trails off and shakes her head.

Annabeth moves to pull away but Percy grabs her wrist, loosely holding it between his fingers. His lips flicker upwards in amusement as he watches her focus zero in on their conjoined hands. The Greek tuts, drawing her attention back up to his gaze.

His words are serious and he makes sure that his expression holds the same magnitude. "Do I strike you as a liar, Annabeth Chase?"

The waitress before him licks her lips- seemingly out of habit- before narrowing her eyes. "I don't _know_ you. You don't strike me as _anything_." She then pulls her hand away from his grasp and her eyebrows furrow. "Except cold."

Perseus opens his mouth to respond but is cut off by a knocking at his door. Annoyed and inconvenienced, he calls for the stranger to speak.

Aleane's accented voice comes through the wood. There's a fearful tinge in it that he's come to recognize as hers. "Mr. Dare is on the phone for you, sir."

Percy lowly growls at the sound of the Irish bastard's name. He steps away from Annabeth and stalks to the door. When he yanks it open, Aleane visibly flinches and casts a glance to the floor while swallowing thickly.

Aleane is one of his newer hires, but _goddamit_ if he doesn't regret taking her on. He had done it as a favor to Raisa, but he had never seen such a jumpy woman before. And he could never tell if it was because of him, or because she was just jumpy in general.

He grunts, slipping his words to suit her native tongue. "_Скажите ему, что он может перезвонить мне в рабочее время. Я дома, все, что он скажет, может чертовски подождать._" **[Tell him he can call me back during office hours. I'm at home, whatever he has to say can fucking wait.]**

Aleane's blue eyes meet his frantically for a moment before she remembers her apprehension and looks down to the floor. She swallows thickly and then in stilted English, "Y-yes, sir."

Perseus nods, satisfied, and turns to close the door. Already, he can feel Annabeth's angry gaze on his back... which is something he needs to address. But before he can resume his conversation with the waitress, his housekeeper pipes up _again_.

"Wait! Mr. Jackson..." Her words trail off and he pushes back an eye roll before turning again.

"_Что это?"_ **[What is it?]**

Aleane twiddles her thumbs and motions in the direction of the dining room. "_Ужин тоже готов, сэр._"** [Dinner is also ready, sir.]**

The Greek cocks an eyebrow and slightly frowns, looking past her and down the hallway. "_я не просил на ужин сегодня вечером._" **[I didn't request for dinner tonight.]**

She shifts uncomfortably. "_Ну ... да, но повар слышал, что мисс Элиас была с нами сегодня вечером, и он хотел приготовить ей еду_." **[Well... yes, but the cook heard that Ms. Chase was with us tonight and he wanted to prepare a meal for her.]**

When Perseus doesn't immediately respond, Aleane hurries to fill the tense silence between them. "_Я могу сказать ему, что вы не будете есть сегодня вечером, сэр. Повар будет-"_ **[I can tell him that you won't be eating tonight, sir. The cook will und-]**

The 27 year old cuts her off with a terse nod, effectively causing her sentence to stop in her throat. Percy glances over his shoulder to find Annabeth staring back at him, her eyebrows furrowed but her grey eyes alight and wide with curiosity. She scowls a little when she catches his gaze. The Greek almost chuckles before he turns back to the housekeeper.

"_Нет, в этом нет необходимости. Елена и я скоро будем внизу. Поблагодари повара, Алеана_." **[No, there's no need for that. Annabeth and I will be downstairs soon. Give the cook my gratitude, Aleane.]**

The housekeeper nods and backs away. "Very well, sir."

When Perseus finally shuts the door, Annabeth hesitates to pick things up exactly where they left off. Instead, when he turns around, she takes a few steps towards him. Her eyebrows furrow, as if she's curious. "What..." her question brushes past her pillowy lips and she glances up at him with wide eyes. "What language was that?"

He cocks his head to the side, studying her for a moment. Annabeth stares at him, waiting for his answer. Percy fights the urge to reach over and take one of her waves between his fingers. "Russian," he answers simply. A daunting smirk, and then, "Why? _Do you find it attractive, Annabeth_?" His Italian accent thickens.

Annabeth's expression sours for a moment, but he can tell she's blushing... even if he can't see it forthright. She angles her body away and shakes her head. "That's irrelevant." Then, as if she finally remembers the topic of conversation before Aleane interrupted, she folds her arms over her chest. "There was something you were about to say to me, Mr. Jackson." She purses her lips. "I'm waiting, _Perseus_."

He grins and draws closer to her. Once he's near enough that he can feel the heat emanating from her body, the Greek cocks his head and slightly narrows his eyes. "You're right," he begins. "I was about to say something."

Her eyebrows lift, a clear indication for him to continue.

Percy chuckles and angles his body so that he's slightly behind her. His hand comes to rest at the small of her back for a moment as he nudges her forward, towards the door. "But that's not important anymore. You should eat, Annabeth."

The woman in front of him huffs a little and shakes her head. "I can eat at _any_ time." Annabeth spins to face him, this time digging her fingernail into the skin of his chest ever deeper. "We're not done here, Percy."

As always, his tone is balanced when he answers. "Far from it," he agrees. The young businessman pries her hand from his sternum and motions towards the door. "But I'm not saying a word until you eat... unless, you would rather tell the cook himself why his food is going to waste."

Her silver eyes flash with barely-veiled venom. "_Ridiculous_," Annabeth mutters under her breath. But despite it all, she dodges Percy's body and walks out of the room with her head held high.

_What a prideful woman..._

_..._

He can practically _feel_ the contempt radiating off of Annabeth's skin as he gently leads her down the stairs. Not only that, but if he were to guess, Percy would say that she's cursing him to hell in her head... for reasons unknown. The waitress's body is tense, her breaths clipped and short and her attention focused straight ahead, seemingly not caring where he's taking her.

But Percy supposes that one can't care when one doesn't know in the first place. So what she doesn't know can't hurt her.

For now, at least.

"Jesus Christ, Perseus, we've been walking for several minutes. Is your house the length of a landing strip?"

He doesn't respond but veers left instead, pushing through a set of double doors. They find themselves in the smaller dining room, the one he usually reserves for himself and whenever Bianca, Nico, or Hazel are staying over. Percy figures it's more appropriate to use rather than the larger one.

"_Oh_," Annabeth exhales with awe filtered over her words.

He glances over his shoulder with a thin smile, taking in her craned neck and wide, grey eyes that study the interior of the room. "Like what you see, Annabeth?"

She doesn't look at him when she answers. "Well... it certainly is beautiful. I'm not gonna lie."

They take their seats.

Dinner carries on in tense silence, the pair of them refusing to acknowledge the other. Percy's thoughts churn faster and faster as his mind attempts to come to terms with the situation he's been thrust in.

Only a day prior was he avoiding a certain Irish model, and now here he is, seated across a woman who's accepted to be his contract fiancée. A woman with olive skin that glows in the sunlight and eyes that churn storms without realizing.

His grip on his armrest tightens at the thought. _She's a goddess in the flesh and she doesn't even realize it._

Annabeth breaks the silence. "So," she begins, swirling the white wine that fills her glass. It sloshes a little onto her manicured hand, but she pays it no mind. The waitress draws in a sip. "What's the deal with the paparazzi?"

He freezes. "Pardon?"

Annabeth rolls her eyes, and it's only then that he begins to register the effect that the alcohol has on her.

_So she's a lightweight,_ he thinks, amused.

The waitress before her sets down her glass and motions vaguely in a random direction. "You mentioned earlier that your father ordered paparazzi so that the news could break of our... romantic involvement."

Perseus hums and waves the busboy away, ordering him in Greek to shut the door on his way out. Whatever Annabeth has to say is for the businessman's ears, and his alone. Once all parties have left save for the pair of them, the 27 year old motions for her to continue.

She obliges, taking in another gulp of wine. Annabeth's eyebrows pinch together as she forces it down her throat. "You're a businessman. Last time I checked, businessmen don't make the news."

The Greek forces down a chuckle and leans over the table, keeping her gaze. "Perhaps you're right." And then he cocks his head to the side, sizing her up. "But the heir to a multi-billion dollar company, as well as the older brother to two world famous models, a tech genius, and a world famous actress and a younger brother to a founder of a dominating resort chain, as well as a shareholder in one of Hollywood's most successful production companies..." He trails off, relishing the surprised glint in her eyes. "He would make the news, don't you think?"

She frowns. "You're lying."

Percy tuts, "Again with the accusations, _ομορφιά μου._" **[My beauty]** He reaches for a napkin, his hand skimming her own. The Greek pushes down a smirk at her light jolt when their skin makes contact. "You know, Annabeth, you might hurt my feelings one of these days."

Annabeth laughs as if she's heard the funniest joke in the world. She downs her glass of wine and pours herself some more.

He draws back in his seat and settles his gaze on her face. His attention drags from her full lips and the gradual slope of her nose to the elegant column of her neck and the bejeweled mass of wavy hair that spills over her shoulder, curving around her brea-

_Focus_, he chastises himself. But try as he might, the young businessman can't deny that the woman before him is beautiful.

_Beyond_ beautiful, really, but that fact is slightly irrelevant.

Perseus clears his throat. "I'm not one for the media, but my last name prevents me from getting any semblance of privacy. And now that you've been drawn into the mix... _well_, the press is going to have their fun."

Her eyes narrow. "And you expect me to believe that as high profiled as you allegedly are... I, a waitress from a hole-in-the-wall diner who lives in a puny apartment, am your _only option_?" As her sentence continues, her anger becomes more and more evident, the logic baiting her on. Seething, Annabeth stands abruptly and leans over the table, slamming her palms into the wood. "_Do you take me for a fool_?"

He angles his head to stare up at her, unable to keep the amusement from playing over his lips. "I would lower my voice if I were you." His words are balanced as always, which seems to anger her further.

Annabeth scoffs and turns away, heading back towards the double doors that empty out into the hallway. "I'm not dealing with this bullshit." Over her shoulder does she toss out, "Give the cook my thanks. Food was delicious."

A chuckle bounces out of his chest. _Even when angry, she's tactful._ His gaze lowers to the gentle sway of her hips before her figure disappears with the doors slamming shut.

Deciding to give her a few moments of space, he finishes his food. Afterwards, Percy stands slowly and wipes his hands on his napkins. Then, after grabbing the bottle of whiskey, he takes a swig and heads off in pursuit of the heated waitress that stormed out moments before.

"Annabeth!" He calls out. Silence is his answer.

Well, near silence.

The auditory quality of her stomps carry through the halls. It's clear that she has no idea where she's going and is still trying to find her way back to the bedrooms.

Perseus follows the sound of her footsteps, and it isn't long until he rounds a corner and sees her leaning against a column with her arms folded over her chest. He approaches slowly but her eyes don't even open when she addresses him. "What the hell do you want?"

The Greek sidles up beside her and presses a hand into the space of the column above her head. "It's rude to not look at someone when you're talking to them. Didn't your parents ever teach you that?"

Annabeth huffs again but opens her eyes nonetheless. The moment that she fully registers his proximity, the waitress's bright eyes widen and she shrinks back a little. She ducks out of his embrace and turns to him. "And it's rude to be in someone else's personal space."

Percy angles his body towards her and presses his shoulder into the column. Again, his gaze drops to her feet before sliding up towards her face, taking in her figure. Their eyes bore into each other. "It seems that our personal space might... _blend_ together pretty soon."

Her irises burn into his skin as she takes a step forward, her eyebrows pinching. Her teeth sink into the plush of her pillowy lower lip and Perseus clenches his fist within his pocket.

She knows what she's doing. She has to.

Annabeth's voice is quiet when she speaks. Quiet, but firm. "Just tell me the truth, Percy. I just want the truth." The waitress shuffles forward, her finger once again landing on his chest before pressing into it. "Is that too much to ask of you?"

A dark thought scrambles across the forefront of his mind, and something within him snaps. Perseus shifts their bodies until they're practically chest to chest, his hand closing around her outstretched wrist, the other pressing into the marble column above her head.

Annabeth's surprised gaze meets his head on, and he doesn't miss the way that she presses her legs together either. The waitress swallows thickly and mumbles something under her breath.

He ignores it, maintaining the coldness in his words. "Do you know what you're asking of me, Annabeth Chase? Hm?" The baritone of his voice vibrates in his chest, and judging by the manner that her attention lowers to his sternum before refocusing on his face, he knows that she can feel it.

She scowls and tears her hand from his grip. But even so, neither of them move a muscle after that. Annabeth glares up at him. "Asking for the truth is too much to ask? What is _wrong_ with you?" She frowns again and shakes her head.

Annabeth's hand comes to rest on his lower abdomen, most likely poised to push him away. But as soon as her fingers make contact with his heated skin, Percy finds himself humming in approval.

_How long has it been since someone has touched him?_

He can't remember. But it's been too long. _Far too long. _

A low rumble, deep and guttural, rises from the back of his throat.

Annabeth's breath catches in her throat the sound he makes, and with a spare glance the Greek can see that her chest heaves.

He swallows thickly before responding. "I don't have the truth that you want from me, Annabeth." His tone is gruff and his words are ragged. Perseus can't think straight, not with her hand still placed on his abs, so dangerously close to his-

Annabeth pulls her hand away, muttering something incoherent beneath her breath. She licks her lips and refocuses her gaze on his face. She stares up at him, obviously determined to hold her ground. Her tempestuous grey eyes glint... dangerously?

And yet, she makes no move to back away or tell him to move.

Percy leans over her, cocking his head to the side. He finally addresses her mumbled words. "I didn't hear you the first time, Annabeth." His voice isn't as balanced as it usually is, but he can't find it within himself to care.

Annabeth runs her fingers through her blonde waves, trying to look everywhere except his face. "I don't see how that's my problem, Mr. Jackson."

He angles his head to meet her eyes. "Well, the only reason you're still here is because you want me to hear it. _Ho ragione, mia bella_?" **[Am I right, my beautiful?]**

She gives him a look, but even he can see the desire plain and clear behind her gaze. "No."

Perseus laughs, the baritone vibrating in his chest as he leans closer to her. His lips barely ghost over the edge of her ear when he whispers. "Please don't play games with me, Annabeth Chase. I'd hate for you to lose."

She shifts forward, her chest skimming his for the barest of moments. Annabeth's heated breath brushes his neck as she whispers something into his jaw. "I don't play games, Perseus. _I finish them_."

And then she's gone, hurrying up the stairs and leaving him tense, bothered, with strained sweatpants, in her wake.

**.**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you so much for reading this chapter! And I hope you enjoyed Percy's POV because it's one of the last chapters of his for awhile (or so I have planned so far).**

**Comment what you think of this so far :)**

**_love, April!_**


	9. Chapter Nine: Featuring Warnings

_**the biggest of thank you's to everyshadedsilver who beta read this for me.**_

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Summary

_Annabeth Chase leads a simple life, one consumed by minimum wages and staying focused on paying the next bill. She's a 25 year old waitress only trying to take proper care of the younger brother she's fought tooth and nail for. But as much as she tries to convince herself otherwise, her current lifestyle of living paycheck-to-paycheck isn't cutting it for either of them._

_Her good looks manage to ensnare the attention of the country's most eligible bachelor, who will do anything to lay claim to his inheritance. Dragged into a world of wealth and paparazzi that's far uglier than it appears, Annabeth finds herself drowning in the attention with no other lifeline than an attractive businessman that she can't help but be drawn to._

_Ever-smirking and stoic, Perseus "Percy" Jackson is scarred from past betrayals, and emotional burns have left him cold. The press label him the King of All Cities, and it ironically turns out that he can't take over as CEO of Cacci Consolidated without a Queen by his side. Hounded by the pestilent expectations surrounding him on all sides, Percy finds himself drowning in the realities of his life with no other escape than the effortless class and beauty that embodies his hidden rose._

_A fateful mishap regarding the wrong cup of coffee crosses their paths, and it seems that their respective prayers have been answered in the form of an engagement contract._

_Percy and Annabeth's seductive entanglement is borderline lethal, for business should never mix with pleasure. And with a contract involved, just how much can the fine line between the two blur?_

_They say they have love, but love can sometimes be too meticulous for comfort. It's one of the greatest prices to be paid._

_With conspiring enemies and dark secrets that haunt them both lurking behind every corner, will that price be too great?_

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**THIS IS PART ONE OF THIS CHAPTER. ****IT GOT TOO LONG SO I DECIDED TO SPLIT IT UP.**

**Part Two should be out soon :)**

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**Warning: this chapter contains mild sexual content (no depictions of sex, but still sexual content)**

**If you would like to skip, i'll give the warning: **

**! ! !**

**in order to let you know when it's happening**

**_Annabeth_**

**_._**

The feeling of an indescribable headache alerts Annabeth of her surroundings before she can open her eyes when she awakes the next morning. She rakes a hand down her face and groans while rolling over on the plush mattress she lies on.

Grabbing a fistful of sheets, the waitress arches her back with a stretch and shudders. And then she realizes that the material of the _silk duvet _is far too expensive to be her own.

_Where the hell am I, _she wonders to herself.

Eyes flying open, Annabeth scans her surroundings to find that she's in an opulent bedroom. Velvet and silk shimmer beneath the glow of the faint sunlight streaming in through the sheer drapes that hang before the large windows.

With a start, she fears that she's missed work, but then the 25 year old remembers that it's finally the weekend. Slightly confused, her thoughts travel back to the events of the previous day.

Annabeth grunts, remembering her (probably foolish) agreement to sign a contract binding her to Perseus Jackson. She thinks back to the quick Internet search she had done on the man prior to falling asleep. Pulling out of her phone, the waitress bites her lip as she takes in the Google profile that's been built.

His words regarding the high profile quality that came with his last name were true. She scrolls past countless tweets, gossip articles, and Tumblr imagines, grimacing with each passing one.

His words were _true. _Meaning that she has unknowingly agreed to become the faux fiancée of America's most eligible bachelor. Annabeth scoffs at the headlines that refer to him as the King of All Cities.

_More like the King of All Asswipes._

Her train of thought sparks at the keyword, and she remembers her accusations from the day before. Annabeth feels a heat climbing in her cheeks as the memory of Perseus's close proximity and his deep, intense gaze settling on her pushes to the front of her conscious thought. Her blush strengthens at the sounds of desire that had rumbled in his chest when their skin had made contact.

"I need a cold fucking shower." She mutters to herself, shutting her eyes as tight as possible in order to dispel the sensuous memory. The 25 year old swings her bare legs over the edge of the mattress and leans forward, pressing her feet against the glossy wood floor.

Her stomach gurgles, and with a wince does she remember the fact that in her bout of anger, she had stormed out of the dining room— leaving her dinner to go cold and practically untouched. Annabeth mumbles as she pushes into the bathroom. "And I need to eat."

She catches a glance of her reflection in the pristine mirror. Pausing, the waitress takes in the sight of her thick, bejeweled blonde waves and deep, iron-grey irises. Annabeth frowns at the realization that she has no memory of the night before after the mild altercation with Perseus had reached its height.

The young woman exhales, dragging her fingers across the skin of her wrist as she remembers his firm yet nimble grip on it. Her lips part slightly at the thought of his hand pressed into the column above her head, ensnaring her in his almost-embrace. Close enough to feel his body heat, close enough to-

Annabeth slams her hands into the counter and leans over it. "_Stop,_" she warns her reflection. "_Stop it._"

Without another thought, she peels off her borrowed clothing, pulls her hair into a bun, and steps into the shower, leaving the stream to remain icy in the (futile) attempt to cool her skin and her thoughts.

The waitress tips her head back below the flow of water and flutters her eyes shut, reeling.

At this time the day before, she had stumbled upon her boss's younger sister passed out drunk on the bathroom floor, sleeping off a hangover. And now, here she is: bathing herself in the shower of a stranger's house, struggling to reign in the smoldering fire that is her attraction towards him.

True, Perseus might unsettle her in more ways than one, but her thoughts cannot seem to rid themselves of the way his head had tipped back, how his eyes had fluttered shut, how his lips had dropped open as he breathed out a low moan when her hand pressed against his firm abs-

"_Stop it, Annabeth!_" Her eyes fly open and her hand, tense as ever, presses against the shower wall. With a grimace, she shuts off the water and pulls a towel around her naked form. "This clearly isn't working."

_She needs food._

The waitress pads back into her room and dries off. After rubbing in the scented lotion that Aleane had left for her the day before, she pulls on the same clothes as before. Annabeth tries not to be disgusted while doing so.

Stomach rumbling again, the twenty five year old ventures out of her bedroom and shuffles into the hallway. Immediately, her neck angles and her head turns to peer into the direction of Perseus's room. The closed, dark doors seem foreboding, and Annabeth forces herself to take a step towards the stairs.

She doesn't understand how and why she's so attracted to Perseus. Nothing like this has ever happened before. True, she cannot ignore his handsomeness, but she has seen a handful of attractive men in her life. And Perseus... for reasons unknown, is different.

As she descends to the first floor, the sounds of chatter and laughter gradually strengthen. Hoping for human interaction, Annabeth follows it. Soon enough, the young waitress finds herself entering the kitchen, where the house staff seem to be engaged with each other in full swing. Feeling out of place, she hovers by the door, taking in the sight of the servants eating together happily.

She spies Raisa and Aleane along the edge of the commotion by the wall, whispering to each other quietly and chuckling. The other staff hoot and holler in foreign languages, their cheeks rosy and their eyes bright.

Her feelings of misplacement grow.

All it takes is for one of the staff to see her. One by one, they notice her presence and the room gradually falls silent. They all turn to stare at her, some expressions fearful, others awed, others passive.

Annabeth balks under the sudden attention and takes a step backward. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt, I was just-" Her body bumps into something hard. Immediately, she clamps her mouth shut, her body going rigid at the feel of it. The woman's chest heaves. Annabeth doesn't dare turn, but she doesn't have to.

_She can recognize that body heat anywhere._

Perseus's hand comes to rest at the junction where her shoulder and neck meet. His warm fingers glide along her skin, trailing down her arm. "Good morning, _mia bella._" He leans over her to whisper into her ear. "Did you sleep well?" The vibration of his voice reverberates in her bones.

She nods, remembering that she has a part to play. "I-I did, thank you." Annabeth bites her tongue at her stutter and gives him a warm smile over her shoulder.

The Italian behind her nods and stands to full height, his body heat rolling over her in waves. He addresses the rest of the staff that stare at them lewdly. "_Buongiorno a tutti_." His ever-balanced words slip into his native tongue with ease.

"_Buongiorno, signore_." They respond to him in unison, their collective voices making Annabeth want to shrink back and hide somewhere. The way that they stare at her makes her uncomfortable, as if she's an intruder.

Almost sensing her discomfort, the businessman speaks a few more words in Italian. The staff resume their previous conversations, albeit slightly muted. Although she knows that they're still staring behind their raised glasses and studying her through their peripherals, Annabeth is grateful that their attention isn't as obvious as before.

Perseus turns to her, taking her hand and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. Annabeth meets his burning gaze, and by the light that fills the kitchen, she sees that his irises have transcended again to a light gray. The waitress glances down at their conjoined hands for a moment and when she refocuses in his face she registers a flicker of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

_Bloody hell, he's so fine._

"Have you eaten, Annabeth?" He cocks his head, his lips forming the question in such a seductive _way_-

_Focus, Annabeth. _But she finds that she can barely focus, not with his thumb drawing tantalizing circles on the back of her hand.

_How long has it been since someone's touched her like this? _Annabeth isn't sure, but she knows it's been too long.

_Far too long._

Swallowing thickly, she gently pries her hand out of his feathery grasp. "What?"

Perseus's daunting smirk reappears, this time stronger. "Breakfast, _bella rosa_. Have you eaten any breakfast?" When he reaches forward, his hand skimming her arm again, she nearly melts into a puddle. When he takes a few strands of her golden hair between his fingers and twirls it, she nearly combusts.

_It's a shame how attractive he can be when he isn't lying._

Forcing herself out of her probably-hormone-fueled daze, Annabeth shakes her head and clears her throat. "No, I haven't. I _am _hungry though."

He chuckles darkly, his irises burning a hole into her head. "As people usually are when they skip out on dinner."

She bites her tongue, refraining from spouting off a scalding response. Annabeth can't do that, not with so many eyes and ears around. Instead, she forces an airy laugh and turns back around. "Well, you aren't wrong."

The young woman tenses when he leans over her again, whispering in her ear. "Come to my office when you're done eating. We have much to talk about."

Annabeth opens her mouth, her eyes lightly furrowing. "Where-"

He doesn't let her finish, which she realizes is one of his more insufferable qualities. "Down the hall, last room on the left." Then Perseus stands again and presses his lips to the crown of her head. When he speaks, his voice seems to be gruffer than usual, and his Italian accent rears its head. "I'll see you soon, Annabeth."

The businessman slips into Russian, addressing Raisa and Aleane who still eat off to the side. The housekeepers perk up, alerted, at his words. As Perseus continues speaking, their eyes fall on Annabeth. When he finishes, they nod tightly and he grunts.

Perseus gives her arm a squeeze and exits the kitchen, leaving Annabeth at the mercy of his staff and leaving behind only slivers of his warmth in his wake. Her back suddenly feels so exposed and cold in his absence.

Again, the kitchen is plunged into silence. After what feels like forever spent staring at each other, Annabeth shifts her weight and forces herself to wave at the housekeepers and others that regard her with emptiness. "Um, hello," She murmurs.

Raisa stands, her abrupt movement causing the waitress's breath to catch in her throat. Annabeth stares as the kindly, Russian woman approaches her with a soft smile. As always, Raisa's words are inflected with an accent when she speaks. "You're hungry, Miss Chase." She states it, rather than asking it.

Annabeth bites her lower lip and nods. "Yes."

Raisa's smile widens a little and she motions for Annabeth to take a seat in the dining room. "Cook will make something to eat." Her ice blue irises fall on an older-than-middle-aged man who peers at Annabeth through honey-brown eyes and intrigue.

The waitress shakes her head. "It's okay, I can just snag a bowl of cereal or..." Annabeth trails off as she watches Raisa's eyes grow large.

The cook joins the conversation, his eyes slightly apprehensive. When he speaks, his Italian accent and soothing voice warms Annabeth to the bone, not unlike a mug of hot chocolate. "There will be no need for that, _signora._"

"I don't want to inconvenience anyone..." She rubs at the crook in her elbow, again uncomfortable with the sheer amount of eyes that are on her. Annabeth holds his warm gaze and coughs into a fist.

The cook releases a small smile and gently shakes his head, seemingly understanding what she's trying to say. "Doing my job is not an inconvenience. _Certamente non per una donna bellissima come te_."

The staff chuckles at the last part of his statement, spoken in a language she can't understand. Annabeth forces her thoughts from traveling to the worst case scenarios and decides to just let it be. Following Raisa's direction, she sinks into a seat in the dining room and tries not to think about the gentle chatter and laughter that resumes in her absence.

The smell of cooking food soon wafts out of the kitchen, and her stomach gurgles once more. Annabeth traces the glossy wood of the dining table, appreciating the architecture that obviously went into its design.

Her eyes lift as she studies the cozy dining room, her gaze flickering over the crimson and gold velvet drapes and mahogany furniture. Whoever designed the house had an obvious love for it all.

Negative thoughts break into her admiration. _Just goes to show how wide the gap is between the poor and the rich. _Images of her dingy apartment scatter across the forefront of her mind.

But before she can wallow in any more self hatred, Raisa's head pokes into the room. Annabeth turns to her, eyebrows lifted in slight surprise.

"Allergies?" The Russian woman gets straight to the point.

The corner of her mouth flickers upward in amusement and the waitress shakes her head. "No, I'm not allergic to any foods. Thank you, Raisa."

She bows her head a little. "Of course, Miss Chase." Then she disappears for a few more minutes.

Annabeth sags in her seat, pulling her knees to her chest as she trails her fingernails over the armrests. Her eyes flutter shut and she frowns to herself. "What are you doing here, Annabeth..." she murmurs.

Disappointment fills the cavity in her chest. _She's practically selling herself-_

"-Harley needs it." Her hand grips the armrest and her eyes fly open. The 25 year old grits her teeth, forcing the negativity from her mind as best as she can. "This has nothing to do with you."

But then the image of Perseus's intense gaze pushes to the center of her conscious, and for the life of her, she isn't able to determine the validity of her previous statement.

So when Raisa finally emerges from the kitchen with a heaping tray of food, Annabeth finds herself relieved and grateful for the distraction.

She needs it now, more than ever.

...

_Down the hall, last room on the left._

Annabeth follows Perseus's earlier directions, her chest thumping in anticipation. _Why does he want to speak with her? _Her arm tingles in remembrance of his touch.

She frowns to herself, eyebrows pinching. "I really need to stop thinking about this."

The waitress finds herself outside of what she assumes to be his office. She stares at the door for a few seconds, her nerves refusing to let her move. Annabeth opens and closes her mouth, her tongue suddenly dry.

With a shaky hand, she lifts her fist and knocks on the hollow wood. Not a full three beats later, Perseus's voice echoes from the other side.

"Come in."

She twists the doorknob and steps into the room, her teeth sinking into the plush of her lower lip. Immediately upon entry, their eyes meet. Perseus scans her up and down without an ounce of emotion. He grunts, and gestures to the seats that lay before his massive desk.

The 25 year old obliges, shutting the door behind her, and moves to the seats. As she lowers herself into the armchair in the right, Annabeth takes note of his light gray button up and pressed slacks. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing tanned forearms and veins that line the skin between his wrist and elbow.

Perseus continues with his work, picking up a pen and scanning the documents that lie before him. He fiddles with it in his grasp, spinning it between his nimble fingers. Annabeth can't tear her gaze away from the sight of his muscles flexing with each move he makes.

_Oh, dear Lord..._

She clears her throat, drawing his attention away from his work. The 25 year old crosses her legs and clasps her hands over her lap. "So..." Annabeth trails off into the silence before raising an eyebrow. "Is there any reason why you wanted to see me?"

The Italian sitting across from her chuckles darkly. His fingers stop moving and he peers into her face. After a moment of staring, his tongue darts out to wet his lips. "Should there be a reason for a man to see his... _girlfriend_?"

The waitress tenses, pressing her legs closer together, but somehow manages to keep the reaction from showing on her face. "Yes," she speaks firmly. "When they've known each other for a day."

Perseus hums and sets the pen down completely. "You're right, Annabeth." Their eyes meet and he regards her for a moment. "However," the businessman pauses and leans slightly forward. "The house staff doesn't know that."

She frowns. "And why is that? Shouldn't they know?"

He shakes his head. "They're the first ones we have to convince. Speaking of which," Perseus studies her. "I think it's time we come up with a plausible story of how we met."

Annabeth cocks her head to the side a little. "For what reason?"

The Italian exhales with a bit of amusement lacing the breath. "You sure do enjoy asking questions." He leans back in his seat, balancing his elbows on the armrests of his swivel chair, interlacing his fingers in front of his chest. His deep green eyes narrow ever so slightly. "Is that so?"

The 25 year old folds her arms over her chest and mirrors the expression on his face. "It seems to be the only way I can ever get a straight answer from you, and that's only hardly." She shifts her weight before, "Now if you could answer my question, that'd be great."

Perseus stares at her passively for a few seconds before nodding. "The whole point of this relationship is to show my grandfather that I'm ready to receive my inheritance and take over as CEO of Atlantis Consolidated. In order to do that, our relationship will have to be very... _public_."

Annabeth stiffens at that, her heart racing at the thought . "How... public?"

He sighs, as if registering her apprehension. "I wouldn't be surprised if the photos from yesterday have already gone viral. It comes with being a Jackson. However, simple photos of us being out together won't be enough, Annabeth." Perseus meets her gaze. "We'll need more than that."

In her steadily growing bout of worry, she fails to realize that he refers to her by her name without provocation. Instead, the young waitress swallows and motions for him to continue. "Get on with it, Mr. Jackson."

"You'll have to be my girlfriend in every sense of the word, Annabeth." He pauses, mulling over his words before he amends his statement. "At least, publicly."

She nods, "I'm already aware of that. That's... that's expected, isn't it?" The 25 year old despises the way the conversation makes her stomach feel as if it's turning itself inside out.

Perseus makes a humming sound in the back of his throat and leans forward. His eyes trail over the contours of her face before he opens his mouth to respond. "I mean you'll have to attend with me galas, charities, auctions, a few meetings, some televised interviews, and other public appearances."

Her heart drops farther and farther into the pits of her gut as he continues.

The Italian across from her either doesn't notice her growing discomfort, or he chooses to ignore it. "Everyone will be viewing you as the future Mrs. Jackson. Our engagement will only solidify that." His accent begins to trickle into his words. "As such, you'll become the face of the company as much as I am. It's how it's always been done."

Annabeth can't bring herself to respond to that. Her frown tightens and her attention falls from his face to the cluttered top of his desk.

_Will she be able to handle all of this?_

The silence between them grows exponentially as she reels. Finally, after what feels like hours, she addresses him. "Why are you telling me this?

Perseus stares at her for a moment before he stands. She flinches from the abrupt movement but he pays it no mind. The businessman rounds the corner of his desk and takes a seat on the front edge of it, sitting right in front of her.

Annabeth inhales sharply at the intensity of the body heat that radiates from him in oscillations. She squirms slightly, further pressing her legs together and shifting her weight.

The Italian above her reaches forward, his fingers aiming to nudge beneath her chin before he drops his hand entirely. He grips the edge of the desk, and with a strained voice, "Look at me, Annabeth."

The waitress shifts her gaze upwards, her focus landing on the burning green irises that study her. She breathes out through pursed lips. "Answer my question, Perseus."

His expression is still cold when he cocks his head to the side. "You want to know why I'm telling you all of this?"

She nods.

Perseus makes a guttural noise at the back of his throat, the vibrations rumbling in his chest. Then he folds his arms over his torso, his biceps flexing beneath the strained fabric of his button up. "I want you to have a choice, Miss Chase."

"Pardon?" She can't keep the surprise from filtering over her words as she registers his statement. Of all the things she had been expecting him to say, that was certainly close to the bottom of the list— if it was on it at all, that is.

Perseus's large hands resume their earlier grip on the edge of his desk. The Italian leans forward, his stormy green irises swirling with her own. "I won't lie to you, Annabeth." His gaze falls to her lips before refocusing on her eyes. "This life of mine... isn't for the faint of heart. It isn't for those who crave privacy. Or for those who enjoy their sanity." His expression takes a dark turn. "I couldn't live with myself if I led you into this mess without showing you what it is in truth."

"Perseus...?" Annabeth opens her mouth to question him, but trails off when she registers the ominous glint in his eyes. But for some reason, she can realize that it isn't directed at her.

He continues, his Italian accent deepening. He doesn't look at her, instead staring a hole into an unknown object above her head. "Excluding my family, you're the first woman in _years_ that I've been involved with in any capacity. The press will go crazy over it, and knowing my father... he'll take advantage of that."

Then his eyes descend to meet hers, and Perseus leans in, close enough to the point that she can catch the scent of his cologne. He balances himself by placing his hands on her armrests. "I'm telling you this because I want you to know what you're getting into, _truly getting into_, before you sign that contract." Perseus's hand lifts to grasp a few golden strands of her hair. He twirls it between his fingers for a moment, staring at it almost... _appreciatively_. "It's what you... deserve."

Trying to finally find her voice, Annabeth shifts again, crossing and uncrossing her legs. She doesn't fail to notice the way that his eyes follow the movement, nor does she fail to notice the way his irises brighten in hunger for a split moment before the emotion disappears altogether.

Their eyes meet.

Annabeth tries to dislike how he makes her feel like prey, but how long has it been since someone has desired her so... openly? Even when they both try to hide the burning attraction they have for each other.

_The dam can only hold for so long before it shatters._

The young waitress clears her throat, unable to look away from the ensnaring tempestuous gaze that roots her in place. "And if I decide that I don't want to sign the contract?"

Perseus's expression softens for a fleeting moment. "I wouldn't blame you for it. However..." He trails off and reaches forward tentatively, and without thinking, her body scoots to the edge of her seat. The Italian nudges a few fingers beneath her chin.

Annabeth sinks her teeth into her lower lip out of habit, eliciting a light growl from him. She swallows as his thumb gently sweeps over her bottom lip.

Perseus draws their bodies closer with a heated gaze. "I can't say that I would be happy about your choice, _mia bella,_" he whispers to her.

Her eyes flutter shut at the feel of his thumb dragging downwards, pulling on the plumpness of her lip before releasing it. His fingertips dance to the edge of her chin and she swallows.

"I'll have to think about it," she murmurs, knowing he can hear her.

"It's rude to not look at someone when you're speaking to them, you know." Perseus's fingers skim the shell of her ear.

Annabeth opens her eyes to meet his. Her heart skips a beat that the pure desire that burns in his stormy irises, blatant and unashamed. She pulls a smirk. "I learn from the best."

"Is that so?" Perseus chuckles, his hand moving to lift her head farther up, to the point where she's practically craning her neck.

The 25 year old's smirk widens, but doesn't respond forthrightly. She holds his gaze, trying desperately to ignore the fact that he has her wrapped around his finger like a tetherball entangled on a pole.

Tensed silence spins the short distance between them.

After a few moments, Annabeth stands, pushing off of her legs and clasping her hands in front of her. "Well, since we're done here-"

"-Who said I was done with you?" His tone and expression take a dark turn as he leans back, pupils dilating. Perseus reaches forward, his hand curving around to the small of her back. His palm flattens against it as he pulls her closer.

Reflexively, she lifts her hands only to find them pressed against his chest. The businessman before her releases a deep groan of approval at their contact, his eyes fluttering shut and his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

Annabeth swallows thickly as she registers the sight in front of her.

_This is a dangerous game._

She knows it is.

_But it's all so addictive._

She knows that too.

Perseus's eyes snap open and he tugs her against fully his chest. When he whispers against her ear, his tone is flush with arousal and strain. "Is this your attempt at finishing what you started last night?" His fingers curl around the ends of her golden hair.

Maybe she just imagines it, but she can swear that he tugs on them.

Her voice is somehow balanced when she answers. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Mr. Jackson."

She can feel the vibrations of his laugh beneath her palms. "I'm sure of that, _bella rosa_."

Annabeth's breath catches in her throat as she registers his lips move from the shell of her ear to the curve of her jaw, down to the column of her neck.

Perseus mutters something foreign into her skin. "_Così fottutamente bella._" His grip on the small of her back moves to the swell of her hips before tightening. "_Come sei così perfetto?_" He pulls away to stare in the face, frowning a little.

She swallows. "What?"

His frown wavers slightly, giving way to the tiniest of smiles as he scans her up and down. "Never mind." The Italian tilts his head, meeting her gaze. "It was a rhetorical question anyway."

The waitress nods. "Um, I-"

She's interrupted by a knock at the door.

Perseus literally _growls_ in annoyance, anger filtering in the greens of his irises. His fingers loosen around her waistline a little, so Annabeth takes that as her cue to return to her seat.

**! ! !**

But the businessman cocks an eyebrow at her when he feels her movement. The lights overhead hit his eyes, churning the emerald shade of his irises to a startling grey. "_And where are you going_?"

Her eyebrows pinch, her gaze falling to her seat before returning to his face. "You've got company-"

Perseus spins her around in his grasp so her ass presses against his thighs, his chest molding with the curve of her spine. His long fingers grip her hips tighter than before. When his whisper hits her ear, heat rises in her face. "And why the fuck does that matter?"

_Bloody hell._

Annabeth can't bring herself to respond, instead settling for shutting her eyes a little.

Perseus moves her hair, pushing it from her shoulder to the other before his lips trail to her neck. "Tell me to let you go, _bella rosa_. I'll do it."

She opens her mouth to do so, but the words die in her throat, refusing to come out. More than anything, her body wants this.

And deep, deep down, where her innermost secrets lie, she knows she wants this too.

_It's one of the rare opportunities that refuse to be missed._

He chuckles darkly at her silence. The Italian curves his right arm around the front of her stomach, tugging her closer to his body. "I thought so."

The knock sounds again.

"You seem pretty confident in yourself." She relishes the feel of the heat that rolls off of him. It's been too long since she's engaged in such close proximity. She's forgotten how intoxicating it can be.

"You would be too if you were me." Perseus gives her one final tug, Annabeth let's out a slight yelp as she finds herself basically seated in his lap. The evidence of his arousal presses against her. "If you had someone as... _perfect_ as you are, sitting on your lap."

"Perseus..." she hates how breathless her tone is. She hates how it tells him just how much he affects her.

"Yes, _mia bella?" _He drags his fingers up and down the surface of her thighs before shifting back to her hips.

"Th-the-" Annabeth stutters as he begins to roll his hips, groaning lowly into her ear. "The door. There's s-someone at-"

As if on cue, the knock sounds again.

Perseus's breath hits the back of her neck. His scent fills her nostrils as he pulls her against him, her head falling to his shoulder. "They can wait." His Italian accent strengthens even more, if possible. "They can _fucking _wait."

She shifts by reflex, wholly unprepared for the sheer _depth_ of the groan that reaches her ears when she does so.

Perseus's grip on her hips tighten. "_Cazzo_," he breathes. "_Se solo tu sapessi cosa mi fai._"

Annabeth presses her legs together. "I don't think we should be doing this."

_Despite how good it all feels, something feels wrong._

_Taboo._

"Tell me to let you go, and I'll do it." His hands trail up and down her sides. "I will." But other than that, he makes no move to address her words.

Annabeth inhales sharply when his hand delves between her knees.

"Say it, Annabeth."

His fingertips begin to trace patterns along the fabric of the leggings covering her inner thighs, gradually inching closer and closer to-

**! ! !**

Her voice shakes ever so slightly. "Perseus, let me go."

He hums in response, his chest rumbling against her spine for a few moments before he slowly detangles his limbs from hers. Perseus gently lifts her off his lap, displaying only a fraction of his strength, and allows her to stand on her own two feet.

Again, her backside feels cold and exposed from the immense lack of warmth that his absence leaves. Annabeth releases a shattered breath as she walks back to her seat, attempting to get comfortable in spite of her arousal.

She ignores Perseus's intense stare as she does so. The waitress is all too aware of how he watches her fidget and squirm.

The Italian exhales sharply before standing and returning to his swivel chair behind the desk. When the knock on the door sounds again, he's ready.

"_Entra e fai in fretta._" He calls out. Already all evidence of previous desire and attraction is wiped from his face, leaving only the cold, blank slate of an expression that Annabeth's come to recognize as his and his alone.

As the perpetrator enters, Annabeth finds herself struggling to catch her breath. Perseus angrily begins to speak with the newcomer in a language she's yet to hear spill from his lips, but the memory of his chest pressed against her backside is too consuming for her to fully dwell on the situation at hand to begin with.

More than anything, the young waitress wonders to herself just what she got herself into when she agreed to the contract engagement with the Italian billionaire that sits across from her.

_Is this survivable?_

**.**

**Author's Note-**

**Again, part two should be out soon!**

**Y'all, I think I might change the rating for this to M cuz idk if all this sexual tension/innuendos is allowed for the T rating**

**Should I change the rating for safety? ****(I don't plan on including any smut in this, FYI)**

**Tell me what yall think. ****And thanks again for sticking around this long!**

**YALL: I JUST WROTE A NEW IN-CHAPTER SUMMARY AND IM SO PROUD OF IT, PLEASE CHECK IT OUT**

_**love, April!**_


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